UC-NRLF 


.E.     TON.UC01 


r 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 
THOMAS  BULFINCH, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of 
Massachusetts. 


ELECTROTYPED     AT     THE 
BOSTON     STEREOTYPE     FOUNDRY. 


CAMBRIDGE:  PRINTED   BY  H.  o.  HOUGHTON. 


PREFACE. 


THE  work  entitled  "  The  Age  of  Fable  "  was  an  at- 
tempt to  convey  so  much  knowledge  of  the  gods  and 
goddesses,  heroes  and  heroines,  of  antiquity,  as  a  well- 
educated  gentleman  or  lady  of  the  present  day  has  occa- 
sion for;  and  to  do  it  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  encroach 
upon  the  time  wanted  for  graver  studies.  For  this  pur- 
pose, the  fables  of  mythology  were  told  in  the  form  of 
entertaining  stories,  which  young  people,  and  others  who 
need  this  species  of  information,  were  invited  to  read  for 
amusement,  not  as  a  study,  or  a  task.  To  each  of  the 
stories  one  or  more  quotations  from  the  poets  of  our 
own  language  were  appended,  alluding  to  the  story,  or 
using  it  as  an  illustration.  These  citations  were  calcu- 
lated to  call  the  reader's  attention  to  the  leading  facts 
of  the  story,  and,  being  in  the  form  of  poetry,  were  the 
better  adapted  to  fix  themselves  in  the  memory.  But 
they  were  necessarily  brief,  and  others  equally  apt  and 
attractive  were  omitted  for  want  of  room. 

This  volume  presents  these  poetical  citations  and  il- 
lustrations, increased  in  number  and  in  length.  Such  a 
collection,  it  is  thought,  may  be  useful  in  recalling  to 
memory  the  contents  of  the  former  volume,  and  in  test- 
ing for  each  reader  the  extent  of  his  or  her  acquirements 
in.  mythologic  lore.  If  in  any  one  of  these  three  hun- 


M189454 


VI  PREFACE. 

dred  selections  an  allusion  should  occur  which  is  not 
understood,  an  explanation  will  be  found  by  turning  to 
the  name  of  the  hero  or  heroine  in  the  Index  to  the  Age 
of  Fable,  and  reading  the  story  over  again,  which  it  is 
hoped  will  not  be  an  irksome  task. 

A  poet  has  told  us,  "  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  for- 
ever." Abundant  proof  of  the  truth  of  this  remark 
will  be  found  in  these  pages.  Let  us  take  but  one  in- 
stance. The  poet  (Ovid)  who  first  told  of  the  abduc- 
tion of  Proserpine,  added,  in  a  single  line,  that  the  loss 
of  the  flowers  which  she  had  been  gathering  increased 
her  grief.  This  incident,  so  simple  and  natural,  has  so 
impressed  itself  on  the  imagination  of  succeeding  poets 
and  artists,  that  it  has  ever  since  been  an  unfailing 
accompaniment  of  the  story,  whether  told  by  pencil, 
pen,  or  plastic  art ;  and  allusions  to  it  will  be  found  of 
frequent  recurrence  in  all  literature.  Specimens  of 
these  may  be  seen  at  page  67,  which  might  have  been 
multiplied  indefinitely,  had  our  space  permitted. 

This  book  is  intended  to  be  read  in  connection 
with  the  former  volume  of  the  same  author,  —  the  Age 
of  Fable.  But  it  may  be  read  independently  by  those 
who  have  already  some  acquaintance  with  mythology,  or, 
in  place  thereof,  with  such  help  as  the  conversation  of  a 
parent  or  elder  brother  or  sister  may  supply.  It  is  hoped 
that  the  collection  of  so  many  gems  of  fancy  from  the 
whole  range  of  British  and  American  poets  will  afford 
gratification,  as  well  as  instruction,  to  the  reader. 


The  Grecian  mythology  is  so  intimately  connected  with  the 
works  of  the  greatest  poets,  that  it  will  continue  to  be  interest- 
ing as  long  as  classical  poetry  exists,  and  must  form  an  indis- 
pensable part  of  the  education  of  the  man  of  literature,  and  of 
the  gentleman.  —  BURKE. 


INDEX. 


ACHILLES 181 

Ac-is 117 

Actaeon 40 

Admetus 34 

Adonis 22 

^Eneas 184 

^Eolus 176 

JEson 146 

Ajax 154 

Alcestis 54 

Amazons 200 

Amphion 194 

Araphitrite 6 

Apollo 31 

Arachne 19 

Arethusa 68 

Argonauts 145 

Argus 25 

Ariadne 110 

Arion 193 

Aristaeus     187 

Atalanta 110 

Avatar 233 

B. 

Bacchus 61 

Baldur 241 

Bards 247 

Basilisk 225 


Baucis 129 

Bellerophon 121 

Brahma 233 


Cadmus 116 

Calypso 164 

Castor  and  Pollux  ....    74 

Cephalus 40 

Ceres 63 

Circe 163 

Cleopatra's  Barge    ....    28 

Clyt'i-e 128 

Creusa 183 

Cupid 23 

Cybele 14 

Cyclops 50,  171 

D. 

Danae 69 

Daedalus 117 

Daphne 33 

Diana 35 

Dido 183 

Dodona 215 

Druids 245 

E. 

Echo 105 

Egeria 77 

(Till 


INDEX. 


Egyptian  Deities 212 

Elysium 185 

Endymion 41 

Erebus 13 

Eurydice 189 

F. 

Fates 8 

Favonius 79 

Flora .79 

Furies 12 

G. 

Galatea 118 

Ganymede 50 

Glaucus 132 

Golden  Age 105 

Graces 29 

H. 

Halcyon  .  .  .  . 134 

Hebe 58 

Helen 150 

Hercules 50 

Hero  and  Leander  ....  137 

Hesperides 54 

Hippomenes 110 

Hyacinthus 34 

Hylas 55 


J. 

Janus 84 

Jason 145 

Juno 17 

Jupiter 4 

L. 

Labyrinth Ill 

Laocoon 159 

Laoxiamia 153 

Latona 30 

Loke 235 

Lotus-eaters 161 

M. 

Mars 15 

Medea 146 

Medusa 71 

Memnon 156 

Mercury 57 

Mermaid 170 

Minerva 17 

Morpheus    ...... . .  .  136 

N. 

Naiads 76 

Narcissus 105 

Nemesis 9 

Neptune 5 

Niobe 48 


I. 

Icarus    117 

lona 249 

Iphigenia 152 

Iris 30,  58 


O. 

CEnone 147 

Olympus 3 

Oracles .213 

Orestes 9 


INDEX. 


IX 


Orion 46 

Orpheus   189 

P. 

Pactolus 108 

Palinurus 160 

Pallas 18 

Pan 80 

Pandora  103 

Paris 147 

Parnassus 202 

Pegasus    .........  122 

Pelion 202 

Penelope 181 

Perseus 71 

Phaeton 131 

Philemon 129 

Philoctetes 156 

Phoenix .   .  223 

Pluto 8 

Polyphemus 171 

Pomona 80 

Priam 160 

Prometheus 102 

Proserpine 67 

Proteus 188 

Protesilaus     .   .  .  . '.  .   .153 

Psyche 112 

Pygmies .   .  126 

Pygmalion 133 

Pyramus 127 

Pythagoras 197 

R. 

Rumor 87 

Runic  rhyme 244 


S. 

Sabrina 188 

Salamander 224 

Sappho 141 

Satyrs 229 

Scylla 104 

Sibyl 185 

Sirens 164 

Sphinx 207 

Styx 13 

Swan,  Music  of  the  .   .   .   .220 

Syrinx 89 

Sysiphus 10 

T. 

Tantalus 10 

Tartarus 10 

Telemachus 165 

Thisbe 127 

Theseus 109 

Thetis 75 

Thor 235 

Triton 2 

Troy 160 

U. 
Ulysses    165 

V. 

Valkyrior 243 

Venus 20 

Vertumnus 80 

Vulcan.   .  .    49 


Z. 


Zcphyrus 


79 


THE  LEGENDS   OF  CLASSICAL  MYTHOLOGY. 

O  !  YE  delicious  fables,  where  the  wave 

And  woods  were  peopled,  and  the  air,  with  things 

So  lovely !  why,  ah !  why  has  science  grave 
Scattered  afar  your  sweet  imaginings  ? 

Why  seared  the  delicate  flowers  that  genius  gave, 
And  dashed  the  diamond  drops  from  fancy's  wings  ? 

No  more  by  well  or  bubbling  fountain  clear, 
The  Naiad  dries  her  tresses  in  the  sun ; 

No  longer  may  we  in  the  branches  hear 
The  Dryad  talk,  nor  see  the  Oread  run 

Along  the  mountains ;  nor  the  Nereid  steer 
Her  way  among  the  waves  when  day  is  done. 

Alas !  the  spirit  languishes,  and  lies 

At  mercy  of  life's  dull  realities. 


2r    f       '    POETRY   OF'lliE'  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

SONNET. 

THE  world  is  too  much  with  us  ;  late  and  soon, 
Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers  j 
Little  we  see  in  Nature  that  is  ours  ; 

We  have  given  our  hearts  away,  a  sordid  boon  ! 

This  sea  that  bares  her  bosom  to  the  moon, 
The  winds  that  will  be  howling  at  all  hours, 
And  are  up-gathered  now,  like  sleeping  flowers, 

For  this,  for  every  thing,  we  are  out  of  tune  ; 
It  moves  us  not.     Great  God  !  I'd  rather  be 

A  pagan  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn  ; 
So  might  I,  standing  on  this  pleasant  lea, 

Have  glimpses  that  would  make  me  less  forlorn  ; 
Have  sight  of  Proteus  coming  from  the  sea  ; 

Or  hear  old  Triton  blow  his  wreathed  horn. 

WORDSWORTH. 


THE   PERMANENCY   OF   MYTHOLOGICAL 
ASSOCIATIONS. 

THE  intelligible  forms  of  ancient  poets, 

The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion, 

The  Power,  the  Beauty,  and  the  Majesty, 

That  had  their  haunts  in  dale  or  piny  mountain, 

Or  forest,  by  slow  stream,  or  pebbly  spring, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       3 

Or  chasms  and  watery  depths ;  all  these  have  van- 
ished ; 

They  live  no  longer  in  the  faith  of  reason. 
But  still  the  heart  doth  need  a  language ;  still 
Doth  the  old  instinct  bring  back  the  old  names ; 
Spirits  or  gods  that  used  to  share  this  earth 
With  man,  as  with  their  friend ;  and  at  this  day 
Tis  Jupiter  who  brings  whatever  is  great, 
And  Venus  who  brings  every  thing  that's  fair. 

COLEEIDOB. 


OLYMPUS;  THE  RESIDENCE  OF  THE  GODS. 

So  saying,  Minerva,  goddess  azure-eyed, 

Rose  to  Olympus,  the  reputed  seat 

Eternal  of  the  gods,  which  never  storms 

Disturb,  rains  drench,  or  snow  invades  ;  but  calm 

The  expanse,  and  cloudless,  shines  with  purest  day. 

There  the  inhabitants  divine  rejoice 

Forever. 

COMTEK'S  HOMER. 


4  POETRY   OF   THE  AGE   OF  FABLE. 

THE  INFANT  JUPITER 

NURSED  BY  THE  NYMPH  NEDA  AND  HER  ATTENDANTS, 
AND  SUCKLED  BY  A  GOAT. 

IN  years  and  wisdom,  of  the  nymphs  who  nursed 
The  infant  Thunderer,  Neda  was  the  first  ; 
With  tender  care,  amid  the  azure  flood, 
She  plunged  the  new-born  babe,  and  bathed  the  god  ; 
Then  wrapped  the  mighty  child  in  purple  bands, 
And  gave  the  treasure  to  her  sister's  hands. 
Proudly  the  nymph  the  glorious  charge  received, 
In  joyful  arms  the  infant  Thunderer  heaved  ; 
With  graceful  care,  and  art  well  understood, 
She  rocked  the  golden  cradle  of  the  god. 
On  his  ambrosial  lips  the  goat  distilled 
Her  milky  store,  and  fed  the  heavenly  child  ; 
The  duteous  bee  produced  her  honeyed  spoil, 
And  for  the  god  pursued  her  flowery  toil. 

CALLIMACHUS. 


JUPITER. 

HE  spoke,  and  awful  bends  his  sable  brows, 
Shakes  his  ambrosial  curls,  and  gives  the  nod, 
The  stamp  of  fate  and  sanction  of  the  god. 
High  heaven  with  reverence  the  dread  signal  took, 
And  all  Olympus  to  the  centre  shook. 

POPE'S  HOMER. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  5 

ANOTHER  VERSION  OF  THE  SAME  PASSAGE. 

HE  spoke  and  bowed  his  forehead,  knitted  stern 
With  darkening  brows  ;  the  agitated  locks, 
Dropping  ambrosia,  round  the  immortal  head 
Of  Heaven's  king  shook,  and  rocked  the  Olympian 
hill.  ELTON- 


THE  EAGLE  OF  JUPITER  SOOTHED  BY 
CELESTIAL  MUSIC. 

O,  SOVEREIGN  of  the  willing  soul, 

Parent  of  sweet  and  solemn-breathing  airs, 

Enchanting  shell  !  the  sullen  Cares 

And  frantic  Passions  hear  thy  soft  control. 

Perching  on  the  sceptred  hand 

Of  Jove,  thy  magic  lulls  the  feathered  king. 

With  ruffled  plumes  and  flagging  wing, 

Quenched  in  dark  clouds  of  slumber  lie 

The  terrors  of  his  beak,  and  lightnings  of  his  eye. 

GRAY. 


NEPTUNE. 

THE  sea-born  Neptune  there  was  pictured, 
In  his  divine  resemblance,  wondrous  like  : 
1* 


6        POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

His  face  was  rugged,  and  his  hoary  head 
Dropped  with  brackish  dew,  —  his  three  forked 

pike 

He  sternly  shook,  and  therewith  fierce  did  strike 
The  raging  billows,  that  on  every  side 
They  trembling  stood,  and  made  a  long,  broad 

dike, 

That  his  swift  chariot  might  have  passage  wide, 
Which  four  great  sea  horses  did  draw,  in  team- 
ways  tied. 

His  sea  horses  did  seem  to  snort  amain, 
And  from  their  nostrils  blow  the  briny  stream, 
That  made  the  sparkling  waves  to  smoke  again, 
And  flame  with  gold ;  but  the  white,  foamy  cream 
Did  shine  with  silver,  and  shoot  forth  its  beam. 

SPENSER. 


AMPHITRITE. 

O'ER  the  green  waves  which  gently  bend  and 
>  swell, 

Fair  Amphitrite  steers  her  silver  shell ; 
Her  playful  dolphins  stretch  the  silken  rein, 
Hear  her  sweet  voice,  and  glide  along  the  main. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       7 

As  round  the  wide,  meandering  coasts  she  moves, 
By  gushing  rills,  rude  cliffs,  and  nodding  groves, 
Each  by  her  pine,  the  wood-nymphs  wave  their  locks, 
And  blue-eyed  Naiads  peep  amid  the  rocks. 


A  SUMMER  SUNSET. 

Low  walks  the  sun,  and  broadens  by  degrees, 
Just  o'er  the  verge  of  day.     The  shifting  clouds 
Assembled  gay,  a  richly  gorgeous  train, 
In  all  their  pomp  attend  his  setting  throne. 
Air,  earth,  and  ocean  smile  immense.     And  now, 
As  if  his  weary  chariot  sought  the  bowers 
Of  Amphitrite,  and  her  tending  nymphs 
(So  Grecian  fable  sung),  he  dips  his  orb ; 
Now  half  immersed,  and  now  a  golden  curve, 
Gives  one  bright  glance,  then  total  disappears. 

THOMSON. 


A  CHARACTER. 

His  nature  is  too  noble  for  the  world ; 

He  would  not  flatter  Neptune  for  his  trident, 

Nor  Jove  for  his  power  to  thunder. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


PLUTO. 

PLUTO,  the  grisly  god,  who  never  spares, 
Who  feels  no  mercy,  and  who  hears  no  prayers, 
Lives  dark  and  dreadful  in  hell's  deep  abodes, 
And  mortals  hate  him  as  the  worst  of  gods. 

POPE'S  HOMER. 


THE  PAROLE,  OR  FATES. 

NEAR  Jove's  high  throne  see  the  dread  Sisters  stand ; 
The  distaff  streams  from  Clotho's  withered  hand. 
With  light  and  shade  co-mixed,  concord  and  strife, 
Artful  she  weaves  the  mingled  thread  of  life. 
Hour  after  hour  the  growing  line  extends, 
The  cradle  and  the  coffin  bound  its  ends  j 
While  the  dread  Lachesis,  with  skilful  pains, 
Twines  the  slight  cord  which  fluttering  life  sustains ; 
And  Atropos  lifts  high  the  shears  which  sever 
That  slender  thread,  —  and  cuts  its  course  forever. 


POETRY   OF   THE  AGE  OF   FABLE. 


THE  THREAD  OF  LIFE. 

FAME  is  the  spur  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise, 
(That  last  infirmity  of  noble  mind) 
To  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days ; 
But  the  fair  guerdon  when  we  hope  to  find, 
And  think  to  burst  out  into  sudden  blaze, 
Comes  the  blind  Fury  with  the  abhorred  shears 
And  clips  the  well-spun  life. 

MILTON. 


NEMESIS. 

O  THOU  who  never  yet  of  human  wrong 
Left  the  unbalanced  scale,  great  Nemesis ! 
Thou  who  didst  call  the  Furies  from  the  abyss, 
And  round  Orestes  bade  them  howl  and  hiss, 
For  that  unnatural  retribution,  — just, 
Had  it  but  been  from  hands  less  near,  —  in  this, 
Thy  former  realm,  I  call  thee  from  the  dust ! 


10       POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

TARTARUS.  — THE  PUNISHMENT  OF 
SISYPHUS. 

WITH  many  a  weary  step,  and  many  a  groan, 
Up  the  high  hill  he  heaves  a  huge  round  stone  ; 
The  huge  round  stone,  returning  with  a  bound, 
Thunders  impetuous  down,  and  smokes  along  the 

ground.  POPE'S  HOMEE. 


THE  PUNISHMENT  OF  TANTALUS. 

HERE  Tantalus  tormented  bends  to  drink, 
While  from  his  lips  the  refluent  waters  shrink. 
"  Quench  me,  ye  cool,  transparent  rills ! "  he  cries, 
Opes  his  parched  mouth,  and  rolls  his  hollow  eyes ; 
In  vain  :  the  stream  alone  his  bosom  laves, 
And  thirst  consumes  him  'mid  surrounding  waves. 

DARWIN. 


THE  PUNISHMENT  OF  SALMONEUS. 

TO  AN  IMITATOR. 

BE  cautious,  mortal,  whom  you  imitate, 
And,  wise,  remember  vain  Salmoneus'  fate. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       11 

Through  Grecian  cities  he,  through  Elis,  drove, 
And,  flashing  torches,  deemed  himself  a  Jove. 
Madman !  to  think  for  thunder  thus  to  pass 
His  chariot  rattling  o'er  a  bridge  of  brass. 
Wrathful  at  this,  from  deep  surrounding  gloom, 
The  Olympian  monarch  seized  the  forky  doom  ; 
(No  firebrand  that,  emitting  smoky  light, 
But  with  impatient  vengeance  fiercely  bright,) 
He  seized,  and  hurled  it  on  the  thundering  elf, 
Who  straight  vile  ashes  fell,  his  thunders  and  himself. 

THOMSON. 


SUFFERINGS   OF  THE    INFERNAL    REGIONS 
ALLAYED  BY  THE  POWER  OF   MUSIC. 

WHEN  through  all  the  infernal  bounds 
Which  flaming  Phlegethon  surrounds, 
Love  strong  as  death  the  poet  led 
To  the  pale  regions  of  the  dead, 
What  sounds  were  heard, 
What  scenes  appeared 
O'er  all  the  dreary  coasts ! 
Dreadful  gleams, 
Dismal  screams, 


12       POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Fires  that  glow, 
Shrieks  of  woe, 
Sullen  moans, 
Hollow  groans, 
And  cries  of  tortured  ghosts  ! 
But  hark !  he  strikes  the  golden  lyre  : 
And  see  !  the  tortured  ghosts  respire  ; 

See  shadowy  forms  advance  ! 
Thy  stone,  O  Sisyphus,  stands  still, 
Ixion  rests  upon  his  wheel, 

And  the  pale  spectres  dance. 
The  Furies  sink  upon  their  iron  beds, 
While  snakes  uncurled  hang  listening  round  their 
heads.  POPE. 


THE  FURIES,  ALECTO,  TISIPHONE,  AND 
MEG^ERA. 

THREE  dreadful  sisters,  down  whose  temples  rolled 
Their  hair  of  snakes,  in  many  a  hissing  fold  ; 
As  scattering  horror  o'er  the  dreary  land, 
Near  to  the  lofty  gates  of  hell  they  stand. 


POETRY   OF   THE  AGE   OF  FABLE.  13 

THE  RIVERS  OF  EREBUS. 

ABHORRED  Styx,  the  flood  of  deadly  hate, 

Sad  Acheron,  of  sorrow  black  and  deep ; 

Cocytus,  named  of  lamentation  loud 

Heard  on  the  rueful  stream  ;  fierce  Phlegethon, 

Whose  waves  of  torrent  fire  inflame  with  rage ; 

Far  off  from  these  a  slow  and  silent  stream, 

Lethe,  the  river  of  oblivion,  rolls 

Her  watery  labyrinth,  whereof  who  drinks 

Forthwith  his  former  state  and  being  forgets, 

Forgets  both  joy  and  grief,  pleasure  and  pain. 

MILTON. 


THE  FIELD  OF  ENNA. 

NOT  that  fair  field 

Of  Enna,  where  Proserpine  gathering  flowers, 
Herself  a  fairer  flower,  by  gloomy  Dis 
Was  gathered,  which  cost  Ceres  all  that  pain 
To  seek  her  through  the  world,  .  .  . 

.  .  .  might  with  this  paradise 
Of  Eden  strive. 

MILTON. 


14  POETRY   OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

ON  A  DANCE   OF  LOVES. 

PAINTED   BY   ALBANO. 

'Tis  for  the  theft  of  Enna's  flower  from  earth 
These  urchins  celebrate  their  dance  of  mirth, 
Round  the  green  tree,  like  fays  upon  a  heath ; 

Those  that  are  nearest  linked  in  order  bright, 
Cheek  after  cheek,  like  rosebuds  in  a  wreath ; 
And  those  more  distant  showing  from  beneath 

The  others'  wings  their  little  eyes  of  light ; 
While,  see  !  among  the  clouds,  their  eldest  brother, 

But  just  flown  up,  tells  with  a  smile  of  bliss, 
This  prank  of  Pluto  to  his  charmed  mother, 

Who  turns  to  greet  the  tidings  with  a  kiss. 

MOORE. 


CYBELE. 

FROM  forth  a  rugged  arch,  in  the  dusk  below, 
Came  mother  Cybele  !  alone,  alone, 
In  sombre  chariot ;  dark  foldings  thrown 
About  her  majesty,  and  front  death  pale, 
With  turrets  crowned.     Four  maned  lions  hale 
The  sluggish  wheels ;  solemn  their  toothed  maws, 
Their  surly  eyes  brow-hidden,  heavy  paws 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       15 

Uplifted  drowsily,  and  nervy  tails 
Cowering  their  tawny  brushes.     Silent  sails 
The  shadowy  queen  athwart,  and  faints  away 
In  another  gloomy  arch. 


MIGHT  she  the  wise  Latona  be, 
Or  the  towered  Cybele, 
Mother  of  a  hundred  gods  ? 
Juno  dares  not  give  her  odds. 

MILTON. 


VENICE   COMPARED  TO   CYBELE. 

SHE  looks  a  sea  Cybele,  fresh  from  ocean, 
Rising  with  her  tiara  of  proud  towers, 

At  airy  distance,  with  majestic  motion, 
A  ruler  of  the  waters  and  their  powers. 

BYKON. 

•  •tan** 

MARS. 

WHEN  some  wild  storm  with  sudden  gust  invades 
The  ancient  forests'  deep  and  lofty  shades, 
The  bursting  whirlwinds  tear  their  rapid  course, 
The  shattered  oaks  crash,  and,  with  echoes  hoarse, 


16      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

The  mountains  groan ;  while,  whirling  on  the  blast, 
The  thickening  leaves  a  gloomy  darkness  cast. 
Such  was  the  tumult  in  the  blest  abodes, 
When  Mars,  high  towering  o'er  the  rival  gods, 
Stepped  forth;    stern  sparkles  from  his  eye-balls 

glanced ; 

And  now,  before  the  throne  of  Jove  advanced, 
O'er  his  left  shoulder  his  broad  shield  he  throws, 
And  lifts  his  helm  above  his  dreadful  brows. 
Bold  and  enraged  he  stands,  and  frowning  round, 
Strikes  his  tall  spear-staff  on  the  sounding  ground. 
Heaven  trembled,  and  the  light  turned  pale. 

MlCKLE. 


IN  glittering  arms  and  splendor  dressed, 
High  he  rears  his  crimson  crest ; 
Far  around,  the  rocky  shore 
Echoes  to  the  battle's  roar ; 
Where  his  glowing  eyeballs  turn, 
Flaunting  banners  round  him  burn ; 
Where  he  points  his  purple  spear, 
Ruin,  flight,  and  death  are  there. 


POETRY   OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  17 

JUNO. 

THE  white-armed  Juno  there  enthroned  was  seen, 
Sovereign  of  heaven,  and  Jove's  imperious  queen. 
In  vain  all  beauty's  gifts  her  charms  supply, 
Flush  in  her  cheek  and  sparkle  in  her  eye ; 
Vain  o'er  her  brow  her  amber  locks  which  flow, 
Or  wave  luxuriant  o'er  her  bosom's  snow ; 
For  pale  distrust,  and  scorn,  and  secret  care, 
And  jealous  hate,  and  rage  suppressed,  were  there. 
Still  near  his  queen  her  watchful  peacock  spreads 
His  thousand  eyes,  his  circling  lustre  sheds  ; 
Where'er  she  bends  the  living  radiance  burns, 
And  floats  majestic  as  the  goddess  turns. 

LOPE  DE  VEGA. 


MINERVA. 


O'ER  all  her  form  a  martial  grace  appears, 

A  shining  helmet  decks  her  flowing  hairs ; 

Her  thoughtful  breast  her  well-poised  shield  defends, 

And  her  bare  arm  a  glittering  spear  extends. 


HOMER. 


18  POETRY   OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

MINERVA  AND  NEPTUNE. 

MINERVA  graceful  waves  her  steel-clad  hand, 
And  bids  the  olive's  silvery  boughs  expand ; 
The  ocean  god,  beholding,  envious  frowned, 
And  with  his  trident  struck  the  opening  ground ; 
As  yet  entangled  in  the  earth  appears 
The  warrior-horse :  his  ample  chest  he  rears ; 
His  wide  red  nostrils  smoke,  his  eyeballs  glare ; 
And  his  fore  hoofs,  high  pawing,  strike  the  air. 

••£»*«• 


THE   BIRTH  OF   PALLAS. 

CAN  tyrants  but  by  tyrants  conquered  be, 
And  Freedom  find  no  champion  and  no  child, 
Such  as  Columbia  saw  arise,  when  she 
Sprang  forth  a  Pallas,  armed  and  un defiled  ? 
Or  must  such  minds  be  nourished  in  the  wild, 
Deep  in  the  unpruned  forest,  'midst  the  roar 
Of  cataracts,  where  nursing  Nature  smiled 
On  infant  Washington  ?    Has  earth  no  more 
Such  seeds  within  her  breast,  or  Europe  no  such 
shore  ?  T,™ 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  19 


ARACHNE. 

AMONGST  these  leaves  she  made  a  Butterfly, 
With  excellent  device  and  wondrous  sleight, 
Fluttering  among  the  olives  wantonly, 
That  seemed  to  live,  so  like  it  was  in  sight ; 
The  velvet  nap  which  on  his  wings  doth  lie, 
The  silken  down  with  which  his  back  is  dight, 
His  broad  outstretched  horns,  his  hairy  thighs, 
His  glorious  colors,  and  his  glistening  eyes.* 

Which  when  Arachne  saw,  as  overlaid 
And  mastered  with  workmanship  so  rare, 
She  stood  astonied  long,  ne  aught  gainsaid ; 
And  with  fast  fixed  eyes  on  her  did  stare, 
And  by  her  silence,  sign  of  one  dismayed, 
The  victory  did  yield  her  as  her  share : 
Yet  did  she  inly  fret  and  felly  burn, 
And  all  her  blood  to  poisonous  rancor  turn. 

SPENSEB. 

*  Sir  James  Mackintosh  says  of  this,  "  Do  you  think  that  even 
a  Chinese  could  paint  the  gay  colors  of  a  butterfly  with  more 
minute  exactness  than  the  following  lines  — '  The  velvet  nap, 
&c.'?"  Life,  Vol.  ii.  246. 


20  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


UPON  A  LADY'S  EMBROIDERY. 

ARACHNE  once,  as  poets  tell, 
A  goddess  at  her  art  defied, 

And  soon  the  daring  mortal  fell 
The  hapless  victim  of  her  pride. 

O,  then  beware  Arachne's  fate ; 

Be  prudent,  Chloe,  and  submit, 
For  you'll  most  surely  meet  her  hate, 

Who  rival  both  her  art  and  wit. 

GARRICK. 


VENUS,   OR  DIONE. 

THE  young  Dione,  nursed  beneath  the  waves, 
And  rocked  by  Nereids  in  their  coral  caves, 
Charmed  the  blue  sisterhood  with  playful  wiles, 
Lisped  her  sweet  tones,  and  tried  her  tender  smiles ; 
Then  on  her  beryl  throne,  by  Tritons  borne, 
Bright  rose  the  goddess,  like  the  star  of  morn, 
When  with  soft  fires  the  milky  dawn  he  leads, 
And  wakes  to  light  and  love  the  laughing  meads. 
The  immortal  form  enamoured  Nature  hailed, 
And  beauty  blazed,  to  heaven  and  earth  revealed. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       21 


THE   VENUS  DE'  MEDICI. 

So  stands  the  statue  that  enchants  the  world ; 
So  bending  tries  to  veil  the  matchless  boast, 
The  mingled  beauties  of  exulting  Greece. 


THE   SAME. 

THERE  too  the  goddess  lovos  in  stone,  and  fills 

The  air  around  with  beauty ;  we  inhale 

Th'  ambrosial  aspect,  which,  beheld,  instils 

Part  of  its  immortality  ;  the  veil 

Of  heaven  is  half  undrawn ;  within  the  pale 

We  stand,  and  in  that  form  and  face  behold 

What  mind  can  make,  when  Nature's  self  would 

fail; 

And  to  the  fond  idolaters  of  old 
Envy  the  innate  flash  which  such  a  soul  could  mould. 

BYRON. 


BLOOD,  pulse,  and  breast  confirm  the  Dardan  shep- 
herd's prize.  BYRON. 


22  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

ADONIS. 

STRETCHED  on  the  ground  the  wounded  lover  lies ; 

Weep,  queen  of  beauty !  for  he  bleeds  —  he  dies ! 

Why  didst  thou,  venturous,  the  wild  chase  explore, 

From  his  dark  den  to  rouse  the  shaggy  boar  ? 

Adonis  hears  not :  life's  last  drops  fall  slow, 

In  streams  of  purple,  down  those  limbs  of  snow ; 

From  his  pale  cheek  the  fading  roses  fly, 

And  dewy  mists  obscure  that  radiant  eye. 

Kiss,  kiss  those  fading  lips  ere  chilled  in  death ; 

With  soothing  fondness  stay  the  fleeting  breath. 

'Tis  vain !  ah !  give  thy  soothing  fondness  o'er ; 

Adonis  feels  thy  warm  caress  no  more. 

His  faithful  dogs  bewail  their  master  slain, 

And  mourning  wood    nymphs  pour  the  plaintive 

strain. 

Haste !  fill  with  flowers,  with  rosy  wreaths,  his  bed ; 
Strew  the  fresh  flowers  o'er  loved  Adonis  dead ; 
Round  his  pale  corpse  each  breathing  perfume  strew; 
Let  weeping  myrtles  pour  their  balmy  dew, 
While  Venus  grieves,  and  Cupids  round  deplore, 
And  mourn  her  beauty  and  her  love,  no  more. 

BlON. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      23 

BEDS  of  hyacinth  and  roses, 
Where  young  Adonis  oft  reposes, 
Waxing  well  of  his  deep  wound 
In  slumber  soft,  and  on  the  ground 
Sadly  sits  th'  Assyrian  queen,  &c. 

MILTON. 


WEEPING  FOR  ADONIS. 

[Adonis  was  the  name  of  a  river  in  Syria,  on  the 
banks  of  which  the  death  of  the  favorite  of  Venus  was 
annually  commemorated.  Milton  alludes  to  this  mourn- 
ing for  Adonis,  whom  he  calls  by  the  Syrian  appella- 
tion Thammuz.] 

WHOSE  annual  wound  in  Lebanon  allured 
The  Syrian  damsels  to  lament  his  fate, 
In  amorous  ditties,  all  a  summer's  day  ; 
While  smooth  Adonis  from  his  native  rock 
Ran  purple  to  the  sea,  supposed  with  blood 
Of  Thammuz  yearly  wounded. 

P.  L.  BOOK  I.  447. 


CUPID. 


AND  by  his  mother  stood  an  infant  Love, 

With  wings  unfledged ;  his  eyes  were  banded  o'er, 


24       POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

His  hand  a  bow,  his  back  a  quiver  bore, 
Supplied  with  arrows  keen,  a  deadly  store. 


CUPID  RIDING  ON  A  LION. 

FROM   AN   ANCIENT   GEM. 

PLAYFUL  Love,  on  Ida's  flowery  sides, 
With  ribbon  rein  the  half-tamed  lion  guides  ; 
Pleased  on  his  brindled  back  the  lyre  he  rings, 
And  shakes  delicious  music  from  the  strings ; 
Slow  as  the  pausing  monarch  stalks  along, 
Sheathes  his  retractile  claws,  and  drinks  the  song, 
Soft  nymphs  on  timid  step  the  triumph  view, 
And  gazing  fawns  with  beating  hoofs  pursue. 


CUPID  AN  ARCHER. 

THAT  very  time  I  saw, 

Flying  between  the  cold  moon  and  the  earth, 
Cupid  all  armed ;  a  certain  aim  he  took 
At  a  fair  vestal  throned  by  the  west,* 
And  loosed  his  love-shaft  smartly  from  his  bow, 

*  The  allusion  is  to  Queen  Elizabeth. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE       25 

As  it  should  pierce  a  hundred  thousand  hearts ; 
But  I  might  see  young  Cupid's  fiery  shaft 
Quenched  in  the  chaste  beams  of  the  watery  moon ; 
And  the  imperial  votaress  passed  on, 
In  maiden  meditation,  fancy  free. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


ARGUS  AND  CUPID. 


NOT  Argus  with  his  hundred  eyes  shall  find 
Where  Cupid  goes,  though  he,  poor  guide,  is  blind. 


PRIOR. 


CUPID  CARRYING  PROVISIONS. 

FROM  A   GEM. 

THERE  was  once  a  gentle  time 
Whenne  the  worlde  was  in  its  prime, 
And  everye  day  was  holydaye, 
And  everye  monthe  was  lovelie  Maye ; 
Cupide  thenne  hadde  but  to  goe 
Withe  his  purple  winges  and  bowe, 
And  in  blossomede  vale  and  grove 
Everie  shepherde  knelt  to  love. 
3 


26      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Then  a  rosie,  demplede  cheeke, 
And  a  blue  eye,  fonde  and  meeke, 
And  a  ringlette-wreathenne  browe, 
Like  hyacinthes  on  a  bedde  of  snowe, 
And  a  lowe  voice  silverre-sweete, 
From  a  lippe  without  deceite, 
Onlie  those  the  heartes  coulde  move 
Of  the  simple  swaines  to  love. 

But  thatte  time  is  gone  and  paste ; 

Canne  the  summerre  alwaies  laste  ? 

And  the  swaines  are  wiser  growne, 

And  the  harte  is  turnede  to  stone, 

And  the  maidenne's  rose  maye  witherre ; 

Cupide's  fledde,  no  manne  knowes  whitherre. 

But  another  Cupide's  come, 
With  a  browe  of  care  and  gloome, 
Fixede  upon  the  earthlie  molde, 
Thinkinge  of  the  sullene  golde ; 
In  his  hande  the  bowe  no  more, 
At  his  backe  the  householde  store 
That  the  bridalle  colde  muste  buye,  — 
Uselesse  now  the  smile  and  sighe. 
But  he  weares  the  pinion  stille, 
Flyinge  at  the  sighte  of  ille. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      27 

Oh  for  the  olde  true-love  time 

Whenne  the  worlde  was  in  its  prime  ! 

CROLY. 

—••mi" 


LOVE. 

LOVE,  first  learned  in  a  lady's  eyes, 
Lives  not  alone  immured  in  the  brain ; 
But  with  the  motion  of  all  elements, 
Courses  as  swift  as  thought  in  every  power, 
And  gives  to  every  power  a  double  power, 
Above  their  functions  and  their  offices. 
It  adds  a  precious  seeing  to  the  eye ; 
A  lover's  eyes  will  gaze  an  eagle  blind ; 
A  lover's  ear  will  hear  the  lowest  sound, 
When  the  suspicious  head  of  theft  is  stopped ; 
Love's  feeling  is  more  soft  and  sensible 
Than  are  the  tender  horns  of  cockled  snails ; 
Love's  tongue  proves  dainty  Bacchus  gross  in  taste ; 
For  valor  is  not  Love  a  Hercules, 
Still  climbing  trees  in  the  Hesperides  ? 
Subtle  as  Sphinx ;  as  sweet  and  musical 
As  bright  Apollo's  lute,  strung  with  his  hair ; 
And  when  Love  speaks,  the  voice  of  all  the  gods 
Makes  heaven  drowsy  with  the  harmony. 

SHAKESPEARE,  L.  L.  L.  iv.  3. 


28  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


CLEOPATRA'S  BARGE. 

THE  barge  she  sat  in,  like  a  burnished  throne, 
Burned  on  the  water ;  the  poop  was  beaten  gold ; 
Purple  the  sails,  and  so  perfumed  that 
The  winds  were  lovesick  with  them ;  the  oars  were 

silver, 

Which  to  the  tune  of  flutes  kept  stroke,  and  made 
The  water  which  they  beat  to  follow  faster, 
As  amorous  of  their  strokes.     For  her  own  person, 
It  beggared  all  description ;  she  did  lie 
In  her  pavilion,  (cloth  of  gold  of  tissue,) 
O'er-picturing  that  Venus,  where  we  see 
The  fancy  outwork  nature ;  on  each  side  her 
Stood  pretty  dimpled  boys,  like  smiling  Cupids, 
With  diverse-colored  fans,  whose  wind  did  seem 
To  glow  the  delicate  cheeks  which  they  did  cool, 
And  what  they  undid  did. 
Her  gentlewomen,  like  the  Nereids, 
So  many  mermaids,  tended  her  in  the  eyes, 
And  made  their  bends  adornings ;  at  the  helm 
A  seeming  mermaid  steers ;  the  silken  tackle 
Swells  with  the  touches  of  those  flower-soft  hands, 
That  yarely  *  frame  the  office.     From  the  barge 

*  Yarely,  skilfully. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      29 

A  strange,  invisible  perfume  hits  the  sense 
Of  the  adjacent  wharfs. 


SHAKESPEARE. 


THE   GRACES. 

THESE  three  on  men  all  gracious  gifts  bestow 
Which  deck  the  body  or  adorn  the  mind, 
To  make  them  lovely  or  well-favored  show  ; 
As  comely  carriage,  entertainment  kind, 
Sweet  semblance,  friendly  offices  that  bind, 
And  all  the  complements  of  courtesy  ; 
They  teach  us  how  to  each  degree  and  kind 
We  should  ourselves  demean,  —  to  low,  to  high, 
To  friends,  to  foes  j  which  skill  men  call  civility. 

SPENSER. 


THE   CESTUS   OF  VENUS. 

THAT  girdle  gave  the  virtue  of  chaste  love 
And  wifehood  true  to  all  that  did  it  bear  ; 

And  whosoever  contrary  doth  prove 

Might  not  the  same  about  her  middle  wear, 
But  it  would  loose,  or  else  asunder  tear. 

SPENSER. 


30  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

IRIS  — THE  RAINBOW. 

As  when  the  daughter  of  Thaumantes  *  fair 
Hath  in  a  watery  cloud  displayed  wide 

Her  goodly  bow,  which  paints  the  liquid  air, 
That  all  men  wonder  at  her  color's  pride, 
All  suddenly,  ere  one  can  look  aside, 

The  glorious  picture  vanisheth  away, 
Ne  any  token  doth  thereof  abide. 

SPENSER. 


LATONA  AND  THE  RUSTICS. 

I  DID  but  prompt  the  age  to  quit  their  clogs 
By  the  known  laws  of  ancient  liberty, 
When  straight  a  barbarous  noise  environs  me 

Of  owls  and  cuckoos,  asses,  apes,  and  dogs. 

As  when  those  hinds  that  were  transformed  to  frogs 
Railed  at  Latona's  twin-born  progeny, 
Which  after  held  the  sun  and  moon  in  fee. 

MILTON. 

*  Iris,  the  daughter  of  Thaumas.    The  poet  has  added  a  syl- 
lable to  the  name,  either  accidentally  or  intentionally. 


POETRY   OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  31 

APOLLO,  PHCEBUS. 

To  thee,  great  Phoebus,  various  arts  belong  — 
To  wing  the  dart,  and  guide  the  poet's  song ; 
The  enlightened  prophet  feels  thy  flames  divine, 
And  all  the  dark  events  to  come  are  thine. 
By  Phoebus  taught,  the  sage  prolongs  our  breath, 
And  in  its  flight  suspends  the  dart  of  death. 


ATTRIBUTES  OF  APOLLO. 

Music  exalts  each  joy,  allays  each  grief, 
Expels  diseases,  softens  every  pain ; 
And  hence  the  wise  of  ancient  days  adored 
One  power  of  physic,  melody,  and  song. 

ARMSTRONG. 
••*%*•• 

APOLLO  AND  PYTHON. 

HEARD  ye  the  arrow  hurtle  in  the  sky  ? 
Heard  ye  the  dragon-monsters'  deathful  cry  ? 
In  settled  majesty  of  calm  disdain, 
Proud  of  his  might,  yet  scornful  of  the  slain, 
The  heavenly  archer  stands,  —  no  human  birth, 
No  perishable  denizen  of  earth ; 


32      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Youth  blooms  immortal  in  his  beardless  face  ; 
A  god  in  strength,  with  more  than  godlike  grace  ; 
See,  all  divine,  —  no  struggling  muscle  glows, 
Through  heaving  vein  no  mantling  life  blood  flows, 
But,  animate  with  deity  alone, 
In  deathless  glory  lives  the  breathing  stone. 

MlLMAN. 


THE  BELVEDERE  APOLLO. 

THE  lord  of  the  unerring  bow, 
The  god  of  life,  and  poetry,  and  light, 
The  Sun,  in  human  limbs  arrayed,  and  brow 
All  radiant  from  his  triumph  in  the  fight. 
The  shaft  has  just  been  shot  ;  the  arrow  bright 
With  an  immortal's  vengeance  ;  in  his  eye 
And  nostril,  beautiful  disdain,  and  might, 
And  majesty  flash  their  full  lightnings  by, 
Developing  in  that  one  glance  the  Deity. 

BYRON. 


BYRON   AND   THE   REVIEWERS. 

THE  herded  wolves,  bold  only  to  pursue ; 
The  obscene  ravens,  clamorous  o'er  the  dead ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       33 

The  vultures,  to  the  conqueror's  banner  true, 
Who  feed  where  Desolation  first  has  fed, 
And  whose  wings  rain  contagion ;  how  they  fled, 
When  like  Apollo,  from  his  golden  bow, 
The  Pythian  of  the  age  one  arrow  sped, 
And  smiled !     The  spoilers  tempt  no  second  blow ; 
They  fawn  on  the  proud  feet  that  spurn  them  as 

they  go.  SHELLEY. 

•  •tact" 


THE   STORY  OF  APOLLO   AND  DAPHNE 
APPLIED. 

THYRSIS,  a  youth  of  the  inspired  train, 
Fair  Sacharissa  loved,  but  loved  in  vain. 
Like  Phoebus  sung  the  no  less  amorous  boy ; 
Like  Daphne  she,  as  lovely  and  as  coy. 
With  numbers  he  the  flying  nymph  pursues, 
With  numbers  such  as  Phoebus'  self  might  use. 
But  all  in  vain.     With  his  harmonious  lay 
Unmoved,  the  nymph  could  not  incline  to  stay. 
Yet  what  he  sung  in  his  immortal  strain, 
Though  unsuccessful,  was  not  sung  in  vain. 
All  but  the  nymph  that  should  redress  his  wrong 
Attend  his  passion,  and  approve  his  song. 


34      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Like  Phoebus,  thus  acquiring  unsought  praise, 
He  caught  at  love,  and  filled  his  arms  with  bays. 


WALLER. 


HYACINTHUS. 

OR  they  might  watch  the  quoit-pitchers,  intent 
On  either  side,  pitying  the  sad  death 
Of  Hyacinthus,  when  the  cruel  breath 
Of  Zephyr  slew  him ;  Zephyr  penitent, 
Who  now,  ere  Phoebus  mounts  the  firmament, 
Fondles  the  flower  amid  the  sobbing  rain. 

KEATS. 


[An  allusion  to  Hyacinthus  will  also  be  recognized  in  Milton's 
Lycidas.] 

LIKE  to  that  sanguine  flower  inscribed  with  woe. 


THE   SHEPHERD  OF  KING  ADMETUS. 

MEN  called  him  but  a  shiftless  youth, 

In  whom  no  good  they  saw, 
And  yet  unwittingly,  in  truth, 

They  made  his  careless  words  their  law. 


POETRY   OF   THE  AGE   OF  FABLE.  35 

And  day  by  day  more  holy  grew 

Each  spot  where  he  had  trod, 
Till  after-poets  only  knew 

Their  first-born  brother  was  a  god. 

LOWELL. 


DIANA. 

THE  graceful  goddess  was  arrayed  in  green  ; 

About  her  feet  were  little  beagles  seen, 

That  watched  with  upturned  eyes  the  motions  of 

their  queen. 

Her  legs  were  buskined,  and  the  left  before, 
In  act  to  shoot  ;  a  silver  bow  she  bore, 
And  at  her  back  a  painted  quiver  wore, 
Supplied  with  arrows  keen,  a  deadly  store  ; 
A  silver  crescent  on  her  forehead  shone. 

DRYDEN. 


HYMN  TO   CYNTHIA. 

QUEEN  and  huntress  !  chaste  and  fair  ! 

Now  the  sun  is  laid  to  sleep, 
Seated  in  thy  silver  chair, 

State  in  wonted  manner  keep. 


36       POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Hesperus  entreats  thy  light, 
Goddess,  excellently  bright ! 

Lay  thy  bow  of  pearl  apart, 
And  thy  crystal  shining  quiver, 

Give  unto  the  flying  hart 

Space  to  breathe,  —  how  short  soever ; 

Bless  us  with  thy  wished-for  light, 

Goddess,  excellently  bright! 

Earth,  let  not  thy  envious  shade 

Dare  itself  to  interpose  j 
Cynthia's  shining  orb  was  made 

Heaven  to  bless  when  day  doth  close ; 
Thou,  that  makest  a  day  of  night, 
Goddess,  excellently  bright ! 

BEN  JONSON. 

•  •tan**— 


CHASTITY. 

THE  noble  sister  of  Publicola, 
The  moon  of  Rome  ;  chaste  as  the  icicle 
That's  curded  by  the  frost  from  purest  snow 
And  hangs  on  Dian's  temple. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      37 

DIANA,  THE   GODDESS  OF  CHASTITY. 

SHALL  I  call 

Antiquity  from  the  old  schools  of  Greece 
To  testify  the  arms  of  Chastity  ? 
Hence  had  the  huntress  Dian  her  dread  bow, 
Fair  silver-shafted  queen,  forever  chaste, 
Wherewith  she  tamed  the  brinded  lioness, 
And  spotted  mountain  pard,  but  set  at  nought 
The  frivolous  bow  of  Cupid ;  gods  and  men 
Feared  her  stern  frown,  and  she  was  queen  of  the 

Woods.  MILTON. 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  DIAN. 

QUEEN  of  the  tumbling  floods !   0,  lend  thine  ear 
To  us,  who  seek  and  praise  thee  here. 

Fright  not  the  halcyon*  from  her  watery  nest, 
While  on  the  scarcely-moving  waves  she  sits 

Listening,  sore  distressed, 
Lest  that  the  winds,  in  sullen  fits, 
Should  come,  and  lift  the  curling  seas  on  high. 

*  See  the  story  of  the  Halcyon,  "  Age  of  Fable,"  page  ICO. 
4 


38      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

On  thy  white  altar  we 

Lavish,  in  fond  idolatry, 
Herbs  and  rich  flowers,  such  as  the  summer  uses ; 

Some  that  in  wheaten  fields 
Lift  their  red  bells  amidst  the  golden  grain ; 

Some  that  the  moist  earth  yields, 
Beneath  the  shadows  of  those  pine  trees  high, 
Which,  branching,  shield  the  far  Thessalian  plains 

From  the  fierce  anger  of  Apollo's  eye ; 
And  some  that  Delphic  swains 

Pluck  by  the  silver  springs  of  Castaly. 

Now,  and  forever,  hail,  great  Dian !  thou, 
Before  whose  moony  brow 
The  rolling  planets  die,  or  lose  their  fires, 
And  all  the  bravery  of  heaven  retires. 

There  Saturn  dimly  turns  within  his  ring, 
And  Jove  looks  pale  upon  his  burning  throne ; 

There  the  great  hunter-king, 
Orion,  mourns  with  watery  glare 
The  tarnished  lustre  of  his  blazing  zone ; 
Thou  only  through  the  blue  and  starry  air, 

In  unabated  beauty  rid'st  along, 

Companioned  by  our  song. 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  39 

DIANA,  HECATE    OR  THE   MOON. 

How  like  a  queen  comes  forth  the  lonely  moon, 
From  the  slow-opening  curtains  of  the  clouds, 
Walking  in  beauty  to  her  midnight  throne  ! 
The  stars  are  veiled  in  light ;  the  ocean  floods 
And  the  ten  thousand  streams;    the  boundless 

woods ; 

The  trackless  wilderness ;  the  mountain's  brow, 
Where  winter  o'er  eternal  snow-drifts  broods  ; 
All   height,  depth,   wildness,    grandeur,    gloom, 

below, 
Touched  by  thy  smile,  lone   moon,  in  one  wide 

splendor  glow.  CROLY. 


THE   MOON. 

THE  sleeping  kine, 

Couched  in  thy  brightness,  dream  of  fields  divine. 
Innumerable  mountains  rise,  and  rise, 
Ambitious  for  the  hallowing  of  thine  eyes ; 
And  yet  thy  benediction  passeth  not 
One  obscure  hiding  place,  one  little  spot 
Where  pleasure  may  be  sent ;  the  nested  wren 
Has  thy  fair  face  within  its  tranquil  ken ;  &c.  &c. 

KEATS. 


40  POETRY   OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

ACTION. 

'MlDST  others  of  less  note  came  one  frail  form, 
A  phantom  among  men ;  companionless 
As  the  last  cloud  of  an  expiring  storm, 
Whose  thunder  is  its  knell ;  he,  as  I  guessf 
Had  gazed  on  Nature's  naked  loveliness, 
Actaeon-like ;  and  now  he  fled  astray 
With  feeble  steps  o'er  the  world's  wilderness ; 
And  his  own  Thoughts,  along  that  rugged  way, 
Pursued  like  raging  hounds  their  father  and  their 


CEPHALXJS  AND  PROCRIS. 

A  HUNTER  once  in  a  grove  reclined, 

To  shun  the  noon's  bright  eye, 
And  oft  he  wooed  the  wandering  wind 

To  cool  his  brow  with  its  sigh. 
While  mute  lay  even  the  wild  bee's  hum, 

Nor  breath  could  stir  the  aspen's  hair, 
His  song  was  still,  "  Sweet  Air,  O  come ! " 

While  Echo  answered,  "  Come,  sweet  Air ! " 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


41 


DIANA  AND  ENDYMION. 

QUEEN  of  the  wide  air,  thou  most  lovely  queen 
Of  all  the  brightness  that  mine  eyes  have  seen ! 
As  thou  exceedest  all  things  in  thy  shine, 
So  every  tale  does  this  sweet  tale  of  thine. 

KEATS. 


4?  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

ENDYMION. 

HE  stood, 
Fine  as  those  shapely  spirits,  heaven-descended, 

Hermes  or  young  Apollo,  or  whom  she, 
The  moon-lit  Dian,  on  the  Latmian  hill, 
When  all  the  woods  and  all  the  winds  were  still, 

Kissed  with  the  kiss  of  immortality. 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 
••ISC!" 

A  SPOT  FOR  LOVERS. 

I  PRAY  thee  stay !    Where  hast  thou  been  ? 

Or  whither  goest  thou  ?     Here  be  woods  as  green 

As  any  ;  air  likewise  as  fresh  and  sweet 

As  where  smooth  Zephyrus  plays  on  the  fleet 

Face  of  the  curled  streams,  with  flowers  as  many 

As  the  young  spring  gives,  and  as  choice  as  any ; 

Choose  where  thou  wilt,  whilst  I  sit  by  and  sing, 

Or  gather  rushes  to  make  many  a  ring 

For  thy  long  fingers ;  tell  thee  tales  of  love,  — 

How  the  pale  Phoebe,  hunting  in  a  grove, 

First  saw  the  boy  Endymion,  from  whose  eyes 

She  took  eternal  fire  that  never  dies ; 

How  she  conveyed  him  softly,  in  a  sleep, 

His  temples  bound  with  poppy,  to  the  steep 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       43 

Head  of  old  Latmos,  where  she  stoops  each  night, 
Gilding  the  mountain  with  her  brother's  light, 
To  kiss  her  sweetest. 

FLETCHER'S  FAITHFUL  SHEPHERDESS. 


NIGHT  THOUGHTS. 

THESE  thoughts,  O  Night,  are  thine ; 
From  thee  they  came  like  lovers'  secret  sighs, 
When  others  slept.     So  Cynthia,  poets  feign, 
In  shadows  veiled,  soft,  sliding  from  her  sphere, 
Her  shepherd  cheered,  of  her  enamoured  less 
Than  I  of  thee. 

YOUNG. 


ENDYMION. 

SUGGESTED  BY   A  PAINTING   BY   LUCA   GIORDANO. 

GIORDANO,  verily  thy  pencil's  skill 
Hath  here  portrayed,  with  Nature's  happiest  grace, 

The  fair  Endymion  couched  on  Latmos  hill ; 
And  Dian  gazing  on  the  shepherd's  face 
In  rapture,  yet  suspending  her  embrace, 

As  not  unconscious  with  what  power  the  thrill 
Of  her  most  timid  touch  his  sleep  would  chase, 


44      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And,  with  his  sleep,  that  beauty  calm  and  still. 
O  may  this  work  have  found  its  last  retreat 

Here  in  a  mountain  bard's  secure  abode ! 

One  to  whom,  yet  a  school  boy,  Cynthia  showed 
A  face  of  love  which  he  in  love  would  greet, 
Fixed  by  her  smile  upon  some  rocky  seat, 

Or  lured  along  where  greenwood  paths  he  trod. 

WORDSWORTH. 


ENBYMION. 

THE  rising  moon  has  hid  the  stars ; 

Her  level  rays,  like  golden  bars, 
Lie  on  the  landscape  green, 
With  shadows  bright  between. 

And  silver-white  the  river  gleams, 
As  if  Diana,  in  her  dreams, 

Had  dropped  her  silver  bow 
Upon  the  meadows  low. 

On  such  a  tranquil  night  as  this, 
She  woke  Endymion  with  a  kiss, 
When,  sleeping  in  the  grove, 
He  dreamed  not  of  her  love. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       45 

Like  Dian's  kiss,  unasked,  unsought, 
Love  gives  itself,  but  is  not  bought ; 

Nor  voice  nor  sound  betrays 

Its  deep,  impassioned  gaze. 

It  comes  —  the  beautiful,  the  free, 
The  crown  of  all  humanity  — 

In  silence  and  alone 

To  seek  the  elected  one. 

It  lifts  the  boughs,  whose  shadows  deep 
Are  life's  oblivion,  the  soul's  sleep, 

And  kisses  the  closed  eyes 

Of  him  who  slumbering  lies. 

O  weary  hearts !  O  slumbering  eyes ! 
O  drooping  souls,  whose  destinies 

Are  fraught  with  fear  and  pain, 

Ye  shall  be  loved  again ! 

No  one  is  so  accursed  by  fate, 
No  one  so  utterly  desolate, 

But  some  heart,  though  unknown, 

Responds  unto  his  own  ;  — 

Responds,  as  if  with  unseen  wings, 
An  angel  touched  its  quivering  strings  ; 


46       POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And  whispers,  in  its  song, 

"  Where  hast  thou  staid  so  long  ?  " 

LONGFELLOW. 


THE   OCCULTATION  OF  ORION. 

[Orion  is  represented,  on  the  celestial  globe,  robed  in  a  lion's 
skin,  and  wielding  a  club.  The  poet  describes  the  effect  of  the 
rising  moon  upon  the  stars  of  the  constellation,  which,  one  by 
one,  were  quenched  in  its  light.] 

SIEIUS  was  rising  in  the  east ; 
And  slow  ascending,  one  by  one, 
The  kindling  constellations  shone. 
Begirt  with  many  a  blazing  star, 
Stood  the  great  giant  Algebar, 

Orion,  hunter  of  the  beast ! 
His  sword  hung  gleaming  by  his  side, 
And,  on  his  arm,  the  lion's  hide 
Scattered  across  the  midnight  air, 
The  golden  radiance  of  its  hair. 

The  moon  was  pallid,  but  not  faint ; 
And  beautiful  as  some  fair  saint, 
Serenely  moving  on  her  way 
In  hours  of  trial  and  dismay. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       47 

As  if  she  heard  the  voice  of  God, 
Unharmed  with  naked  feet  she  trod 
Upon  the  hot  and  burning  stars, 
As  on  the  glowing  coals  and  bars 
That  were  to  prove  her  strength,  and  try 
Her  holiness  and  her  purity. 

Thus  moving  on,  with  silent  pace, 
And  triumph  in  her  sweet,  pale  face, 

She  reached  the  station  of  Orion. 
Aghast  he  stood  in  strange  alarm ! 
And  suddenly  from  his  outstretched  arm 

Down  fell  the  red  skin  of  the  lion 
Into  the  river  at  his  feet. 
His  mighty  club  no  longer  beat 
The  forehead  of  the  bull  j  but  he 
Reeled  as  of  yore  beside  the  sea, 

When  blinded  by  (Enopion 
He  sought  the  blacksmith  at  his  forge, 
And  climbing  up  the  mountain  gorge, 

Fixed  his  blank  eyes  upon  the  sun. 
Then,  through  the  silence  overhead, 
An  angel  with  a  trumpet  said, 
"  Forevermore,  forevermore, 
The  reign  of  violence  is  o'er," 


43      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And,  like  an  instrument  that  flings 
Its  music  on  another's  strings, 
The  trumpet  of  the  angel  cast 
Upon  the  heavenly  lyre  its  blast, 
And  on  from  sphere  to  sphere  the  words 
Reechoed  down  the  burning  chords, — 
"  Forevermore,  forevermore, 
The  reign  of  violence  is  o'er." 

LONGFELLOW. 


ROME   COMPARED  TO  NIOBE. 

THE  Niobe  of  nations  !  there  she  stands, 
Childless  and  crownless  in  her  voiceless  woe ; 
An  empty  urn  within  her  withered  hands, 
Whose  holy  dust  was  scattered  long  ago ; 
The  Scipios'  tomb  contains  no  ashes  now : 
The  very  sepulchres  lie  tenantless 
Of  their  heroic  dwellers ;  dost  thou  flow, 
Old  Tiber !  through  a  marble  wilderness  ? 
Rise  with  thy  yellow  waves,  and  mantle  her  distress. 


POETRY  OF   THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  49 


ON  A  STATUE   OF  NIOBE. 

To  stone  the  gods  have  changed  her,  but  in  vain ; 
The  sculptor's  art  has  made  her  breathe  again. 


VULCAN,  OR  MULCIBER. 

NOR  was  his  name  unheard  or  unadored 
In  ancient  Greece ;  and  in  Ausonian  land 
5 


50       POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Men  called  him  Mulciber ;  and  how  he  fell 
From  heaven  they  fabled,  thrown  by  angry  Jove 
Sheer  o'er  the  crystal  battlements ;  from  morn 
To  noon  he  fell,  from  noon  to  dewy  eve, 
A  summer's  day  ;  and  with  the  setting  sun 
Dropped  from  the  zenith  like  a  falling  star 
On  Lemnos,  the  jEgean  isle. 

MlLTOX. 


THE   CYCLOPES. 

THE  giant  brethren,  arrogant  of  heart, 

Who  forged  the  lightning  shaft,  and  gave  to  Jove 

His  thunder,  —  they  were  like  unto  the  gods, 

Save  that  a  single  ball  of  sight  was  fixed 

In  their  mid-forehead.     Cyclops  was  their  name, 

From  that  round  eyeball  in  their  brow  infixed ; 

And  strength,  and  force,  and  manual  craft  was  theirs. 

ELTON'S  HESIOD. 


HERCULES  AND  THE  SERPENTS. 

How  early  has  young  Chromius  begun 
The  race  of  virtue,  and  how  swiftly  run, 

And  borne  the  noble  prize  away, 
While  other  youths  yet  at  the  barrier  stay ! 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      51 

None  but  Alcides  e'er  set  earlier  forth  than  he. 
The  big-limbed  babe  in  his  huge  cradle  lay, 
Too  weighty  to  be  rocked  by  nurse's  hands, 

Wrapped  in  purple  swaddling  bands, 
When,  lo,  by  jealous  Juno's  fierce  commands, 

Two  dreadful  serpents  come, 
Rolling  and  hissing  loud  into  the  room. 
To  the  bold  babe  they  trace  their  hidden  way ; 
Forth  from  their  flaming  eyes  dread  lightnings  went ; 
Their  gaping  mouths  did  forked  tongues  like  thun- 
derbolts present. 

Some  of  th'  amazed  women  dropped  down  dead 

With  fear,  some  wildly  fled 
About  the  room,  some  into  corners  crept, 

Where  silently  they  shook  and  wept. 
All  naked  from  the  bed  the  passionate  mother  leaped, 

To  save  or  perish  with  her  child. 
She  trembled  and  she  cried;  —  the  mighty  infant 
smiled. 

The  mighty  infant  seemed  well  pleased 

At  his  gay,  gilded  foes  ; 

And  as  their  spotted  necks  up  to  the  cradle  rose, 
With  his  young  warlike  hands  on  both  he  seized. 

In  vain  they  raged,  in  vain  they  hissed, 


£2      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

In  vain  their  armed  tails  they  twist, 
And  angry  circles  cast  about ; 
Black  blood,  and  fiery  breath,  and  poisonous  soul, 
he  squeezes  out 

PINDAR,  BY  COWLEY. 


HERCULES. 


THE  mighty  Hercules,  o'er  many  a  clime 
Waved  his  vast  mace  in  virtue's  cause  sublime. 
Unmeasured  strength,  with  early  art  combined, 
Awed,  served,  protected,  and  amazed  mankind. 


DARWIN. 


DEEP  degraded  to  a  coward's  slave, 
Endless  contests  bore  Alcides  brave, 

Through  the  thorny  path  of  suffering  led  ; 
Slew  the  Hydra,  crushed  the  lion's  might, 
Threw  himself,  to  bring  his  friend  to  light, 

Living,  in  the  skiff  that  bears  the  dead. 
All  the  torments,  every  toil  of  earth, 

Juno's  hatred  on  him  could  impose, 
Well  he  bore  them,  from  his  fated  birth, 

To  life's  grandly  mournful  close. 

Till  the  god,  the  earthly  part  forsaken, 
Prom  the  man  in  flames  asunder  taken, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       53 

Drank  the  heavenly  ether's  purer  breath, 
Joyous  in  the  new,  unwonted  lightness, 
Soared  he  upwards  to  celestial  brightness, 

Earth's  dark,  heavy  burden  lost  in  death. 
High  Olympus  gives  harmonious  greeting 

To  the  hall  where  reigns  his  sire  adored ; 
Youth's  bright  goddess,  with  a  blush  at  meeting, 

Gives  the  nectar  to  her  lord. 

SCHILLER,  BY  S.  G.  BULFINCH. 


[Alluding  to  the  efforts  of  the  confederated  powers  to  put  down 
the  French  revolution.] 

MEANTIME  the  invaders  fared  as  they  deserved. 
The  Herculean  Commonwealth  put  forth  her  arms 
And  throttled  with  an  infant  godhead's  might 
The  snakes  about  her  cradle. 

WORDSWORTH. 


[Alluding  to  the  proscriptions  and  massacres  which  accompanied 
that  event.] 

THEY  who  with  clumsy  desperation  brought 
A  river  of  blood,  and  preached  that  nothing  else 
Could  cleanse  the  Augean  stable,  by  the  might 
Of  their  own  helper  have  been  swept  away. 

WORDSWORTH. 


54  POETRY  OF   THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

ALCESTIS. 

METHOUGHT  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint 
Brought  to  me  like  Alcestis  from  the  grave, 
Whom  Jove's  great  son  to  her  glad  husband  gave, 

Rescued  from  death  by  force,  though  pale  and  faint. 

MILTON. 


THE  PILLARS  OF  HERCULES. 

LAST  with  wide  arms  the  solid  earth  he  tears, 
Piles  rock  on  rock,  on  mountain  mountain  rears  : 
Heaves  up  huge  Abyla  on  Afric's  sand, 
Crowns  with  high  Calpe  Europe's  salient  strand, 
Crests  with  opposing  towers  the  splendid  scene, 
And  pours  from  urns  immense  the  sea  between. 

DAEWIN. 

•«!%*•• 

THE    GARDENS    OF    THE    HESPERIDES, 
WATCHED  BY  A  DRAGON. 

So,  borne  on  brazen  talons,  watched  of  old 
The  sleepless  dragon  o'er  his  fruits  of  gold  ; 
Bright  beamed  his  scales,  his  eyeballs  blazed  with  ire, 
And  his  wide  nostrils  breathed  enchanted  fire. 

DARWIN. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      55 

BEAUTY,  like  the  fair  Hesperian  tree, 
Laden  with  blooming  gold,  had  need  the  guard 
Of  dragon-watch  with  unenchanted  eye, 
To  save  her  blossoms,  and  defend  her  fruit 
From  the  rash  hand  of  bold  incontinence. 

MILTON. 

••!%*•• 


HYLAS. 

HYLAS,  the  daintie  boy,  that  was  so  dear 
To  great  Alcides,  that  whenas  he  died, 

He  wailed,  woman-like,  with  many  a  tear, 
And  every  wood  and  every  valley  wide 

He  filled  with  Hylas'  name ;  —  the  nymphs  too 
"  Hylas  "  cried.  SPENSEB. 


WHEN  Hylas  was  sent  with  his  urn  to  the  fount, 
Through  fields  full  of  light,  and  with  heart  full  of 
play, 

Light  rambled  the  boy  over  meadow  and  mount, 
And  neglected  his  task  for  the  flowers  in  the  way. 

Thus  many,  like  me,  who  in  youth  should  have  tasted 
The  fountain  that  runs  by  Philosophy's  shrine, 


56      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Their  time  with  the  flowers  on  the  margin  have 

wasted, 
And  left  their  light  urns  all  as  empty  as  mine. 

MOORE. 


GANYMEDE. 

SWIFT  from  the  chase  Jove's  towering  eagle  bears, 
On  golden  wings,  the  Phrygian  to  the  stars ; 
Still,  as  he  rises  in  the  ethereal  height, 
His  native  mountains  lessen  to  his  sight ; 
While  all  his  sad  companions  upward  gaze, 
Fixed  on  the  glorious  scene  in  wild  amaze. 
His  favorite  hound  entranced  his  master  views, 
With  timid  howl  and  anxious  eye  pursues  ; 
The  rest,  low  cowering,  frightened  as  he  flies, 
Run  to  the  shade,  and  bark  against  the  skies. 


THERE,  too,  flushed  Ganymede,  his  rosy  thigh 
Half  buried  in  the  eagle's  down, 

Sole  as  a  flying  star  shot  through  the  sky 
Above  the  pillared  town. 


Pour  forth  heaven's  wine,  Idaean  Ganymede, 
And  let  it  fill  the  Daedal  cups  like  fire. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  57 

MERCURY. 

ON  his  blooming  face 

Youth  smiles  celestial  with  each  opening  grace. 
Despatched  by  Jove,  he  mounts  the  winged  winds, 
Fast  to  his  feet  the  golden  pinions  binds, 
That  high  through  fields  of  air  his  flight  sustain, 
O'er  the  wide  earth,  and  o'er  the  boundless  main. 
He  grasps  the  wand  *  that  causeth  sleep  to  fly, 
Or  in  soft  slumbers  seals  the  wakeful  eye. 


A  PORTRAIT. 

SEE  what  a  grace  was  seated  on  this  brow  — 
Hyperion's  curls  ;  the  front  of  Jove  himself; 
An  eye  like  Mars  to  threaten  and  command ; 
A  station  like  the  herald  Mercury, 
New  lighted  on  a  heaven-kissing  hill ; 
A  combination  and  a  form,  indeed, 
Where  every  god  did  seem  to  set  his  seal, 
To  give  the  world  assurance  of  a  man. 

SHAKESPEARE. 
*  The  caduceus. 


58      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 
IRIS. 

HAIL,  many-colored  messenger,  that  ne'er 

Dost  disobey  the  wife  of  Jupiter ; 

Who,  with  thy  saffron  wings,  upon  the  flowers 

Diifusest  honey  dews,  refreshing  showers ; 

And  with  each  end  of  thy  bright  bow  dost  crown 

The  tufted  meadows,  and  the  unshrubbed  down. 

Rich  scarf  to  the  proud  earth ! 

SHAKESPEARE. 
••!%*•"• 


HEBE. 


WHERE  high  Olympus'  shining  gates  unfold, 
And  gods,  with  Jove,  rest  on  their  thrones  of  gold, 
Immortal  Hebe,  fresh  with  bloom  divine, 
The  golden  goblet  crowns  with  purple  wine. 


MERCURY  AND  CUPID. 

IN  sullen  humor,  one  day,  Jove, 
Sent  Hermes  down  to  Ida's  grove, 
Commanding  Cupid  to  deliver 
His  store  of  darts,  his  total  quiver, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      59 

That  Hermes  should  the  weapons  break, 
Or  throw  them  into  Lethe's  lake. 

Hermes,  you  know,  must  do  his  errand; 
He  found  his  man,  produced  his  warrant ; 
"  Cupid !  your  darts,  this  very  hour : 
There's  no  contending  against  power." 

"  Come,  kinsman,"  said  the  little  god, 
"  Put  off  your  wings,  lay  by  your  rod ; 
Retire  with  me  to  yonder  bower, 
And  rest  yourself  for  half  an  hour. 
Tis  far  indeed  from  hence  to  heaven, 
And  you  fly  fast,  and  'tis^but  seven ; 
We'll  take  one  cooling  cup  of  nectar, 
And  drink  to  this  immortal  Hector. 

"  He  break  my  darts,  and  hurt  my  power ! 
He,  Leda's  swan,  and  Danae's  shower ! 
Go,  bid  him  his  wife's  tongue  restrain, 
And  mind  his  thunder  and  his  rain. 
My  darts !     O,  certainly,  I'll  give  them  ; 
From  Chloe's  eyes  he  shall  receive  them, 
And  one,  the  best  in  all  my  quiver, 
Twang !  through  his  very  heart  deliver. 


60      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

He  then  shall  pine,  and  sigh,  and  rave, 
And  what  a  bustle  we  shall  have ! 
Neptune  must  straight  be  sent  to  sea, 
And  Flora  summoned  twice  a  day ; 
One  must  find  shells,  the  other  flowers, 
For  cooling  grots  and  fragrant  bowers ; 
That  Chloe  may  be  served  in  state, 
The  Hours  must  at  her  toilet  wait, 
While  all  the  reasoning  fools  below 
Wonder  their  watches  go  too  slow. 
Lybs  *  must  fly  south,  and  Eurus  *  east, 
For  jewels  for  her  hair  and  breast ; 
No  matter  though  their  cruel  haste 
Sink  cities,  and  laj  forests  waste ; 
No  matter,  though  this  fleet  be  lost, 
Or  that  lie  wind-bound  on  the  coast. 
What  whispering  in  my  mother's  ear ! 
What  care  that  Juno  should  not  hear ! 
What  work  among  you  scholar  gods ! 
Phoebus  must  write  him  amorous  odes, 
And  thou,  poor  cousin,  must  compose 
His  letters  in  submissive  prose ; 
While  haughty  Chloe,  to  sustain 
The  honors  of  my  mystic  reign, 

*  The  west  and  east  winds. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       61 

Shall  all  his  gifts  and  vows  disdain, 

And  laugh  at  your  old  sovereign's  pain." 

"  Dear  coz ! "  says  Hermes  in  a  fright, 

"  Pray  keep  your  dangerous  darts  !  good  night ! " 


BACCHUS. 


BACCHUS,  that  first  from  out  the  purple  grape 
Crushed  the  sweet  poison  of  misused  wine. 


FIERCE  panthers,  that  did  once  the  desert  awe, 
With  tame,  submissive  necks  his  chariot  draw, 
While  Bacchanals'  and  Satyrs' jolly  crew 
Make  up  the  cavalcade.     Silenus,  too, 
With  staggering  strut,  scarce  sits  his  slow-paced 

beast, 

Reels  in  the  rear,  with  fumes  of  wine  oppressed, 
While  youths'  and  damsels'  undistinguished  cries, 
And  music's  louder  concert,  rend  the  skies. 

OVID. 
6 


62      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


THE  INFANT  BACCHUS  RIDING  ON  A 
PANTHER. 

FROM   A   GEM. 

BOY  of  beauty  rare  ! 

With  thy  lips  in  roses  dyed, 
And  that  harmless,  infant  air, 

Why  upon  the  panther  ride, 
Boy  of  beauty  rare  ? 

Sweet  one  !  is't  to  tell 

That  within  thy  cup  is  woe  ; 

That  the  victim  of  thy  spell 

Passion's  fiery  speed  shall  know  ? 
Thou'rt  an  oracle  ! 

CROLY. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  BACCHUS. 

FAUNS  with  youthful  Bacchus  follow  ; 

Ivy  crowns  that  brow  supernal 
As  the  forehead  of  Apollo, 

And  possessing  youth  eternal. 

Round  about  him  fair  Bacchantes, 
Bearing  cymbals,  flutes,  and  thyrses 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      63 

Wild  from  Naxian  groves,  or  Zante's 
Vineyards,  sing  delirious  verses. 


LONGFELLOW. 
•  tttl" 


CERES. 

THE  harvest-goddess  Ceres  next  is  seen, 
In  bloom  majestic,  and  in  port  a  queen  ; 
Fair  is  her  brow  as  mountain  snow  fresh  driven, 
And  her  blue  eyes  reflect  the  azure  heaven  ; 
Poppies  and  field-flower  buds  her  robe  adorn, 
Her  long,  fair  hair  is  crowned  with  yellow  corn, 
A  wreath  of  ripened  wheat  one  hand  retains, 
The  right  aloft  a  burning  torch  sustains. 

FROM  THE  SPANISH. 


THE  BOY  CHANGED  TO  AN  EFT,  OR  SMALL 
LIZARD. 

THROUGH  the  wide  earth,  and  o'er  the  boundless 

main, 

Her  daughter  mournful  Ceres  seeks  in  vain ; 
Thirsty  at  last  by  long  fatigue  she  grows, 
But  meets  no  spring,  no  rivulet  near  her  flows ; 


64      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Then  looking  round,  a  lowly  cot  she  spies 
Smoking  among  the  trees,  and  thither  hies. 
The  goddess  knocking  at  the  humble  door, 
'Twas  opened  by  a  woman  old  and  poor, 
Who,  when  she  begged  for  water,  gave  her  ale, 
Brewed  long,  but  well  preserved  from  being  stale. 
The  goddess  drank ;  a  clownish  boy  was  by, 
Who  saw  the  liquor  with  a  grudging  eye, 
And  grinning  said,  "  She's  greedy  more  than  dry." 

Ceres,  offended  at  his  rude  grimace, 

Flung  what  she  had  not  drunk  into  his  face. 

The  sprinklings  speckle  where  they  hit  the  skin, 

And  a  long  tail  does  from  his  body  spin. 

His  arms  are  turned  to  legs  ;  and,  lest  his  size 

Should  make  him  dangerous,  and  he  should  rise 

Against  mankind,  diminishes  his  frame  ; 

Less  than  a  lizard,  but  in  shape  the  same. 

Amazed,  the  crone  the  wondrous  sight  beheld, 

And  wept,  and  would  have  touched  her  altered 

child ; 

But  her  approach  th'  affrighted  reptile  shuns, 
And  fast  into  the  nearest  crevice  runs. 

OVID,  BY  DRYDEN. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  65 


THE   GIFT  OF  CORN. 

IN  the  shyest  mountain  cleft 

Held  the  Troglodyte  *  abode, 
Waste  and  bare  the  plains  were  left, 

Where  the  roving  Nomad  *  trode. 
With  the  arrow,  with  the  bow, 

Ranged  the  hunter  through  the  land ; 
Woe  betide  the  stranger,  woe ! 

Cast  upon  the  luckless  strand. 

On  the  search  for  her  lost  daughter, 

To  these  coasts,  so  rude  and  drear, 
Ceres'  wandering  steps  had  brought  her ; 

Ah,  no  fertile  fields  appear  ! 
To  detain  her  footsteps  there 

No  built  roof  its  welcome  rears  5 
No  proud  temples'  columns  fair 

Tell  that  man  the  gods  reveres. 

No  sweet  fruits  of  harvest  reach 

For  her  use  their  holy  food  ; 
Human  bones  all  ghastly  bleach 

On  the  altar's  pillar  rude. 

*  Troglodytes,  dwellers  in  caves ;  Nomads,  wandering  tribes. 
6  * 


66      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And  where'er  her  steps  she  turns, 
She  but  sees  a  fallen  fate, 

And  her  generous  spirit  burns, 
Sorrowing  over  man's  lost  state. 

Then  she  softly  bursts  the  cloud 
That  detained  her  from  their  sight, 

And  at  once,  'mid  that  wild  crowd, 
Stands  revealed,  —  a  form  of  light ! 

And  she  takes  the  spear-staffs  weight 

From  the  hunter's  rugged  hand ; 
With  its  point  of  deadly  fate 

Furrows  she  the  yielding  sand ; 
Plucks  from  out  her  bearded  crown 

One  small  grain  of  hidden  might, 
Sinks  it  in  its  small  trench  down, 

And  it  swells  and  shoots  to  light, 

And  with  green  blade  instantly 
Does  the  ground  its  breadth  adorn, 

And  as  far  as  eye  can  see 

Waves  like  golden  boughs  the  corn. 

Smiling,  blesses  she  the  earth, 
The  first-gathered  sheaf  she  binds, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       67 

Plants  the  fieldstone  for  a  hearth ; 
Man  in  man  a  brother  finds. 

SCHILLER,  BY  FROTHINGHAM. 


PROSERPINE.— SPRING  FLOWERS. 

O  PROSERPINA, 

For  the  flowers  now  that  frighted  thou  lett'st  fall 
FronvDis's  wagon !  daffodils 
That  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty ;  violets,  dim, 
But  sweeter  than  the  lids  of  Juno's  eyes, 
Or  Cytherea's  breath ;  pale  primroses 
That  die  unmarried,  ere  they  can  behold 
Bright  Phoebus  in  his  strength ;  bold  oxlips,  and 
The  crown  imperial ;  lilies  of  all  kinds, 
The  flower-de-luce  being  one. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


FORGIVE,  if  somewhile  I  forget, 
In  woe  to  come,  the  present  bliss  j 

As  frighted  Proserpine  let  fall 
Her  flowers  at  the  sight  of  Dis. 

HOOD. 


68  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

PLUTO  AND  PROSERPINE. 

BY  the  river  browsed  a  single  steed, 

Sable  as  one  of  that  poetic  pair, 

On  the  fair  plain  of  Enna,  in  the  yoke 

Of  Pluto,  when  Proserpina  let  fall 

From  her  soft  lap  her  flowers,  and  mourned  their 

loss, 
Lavish,  nor  for  herself  reserved  her  tears. 


ARETHUSA. 

O  MY  beloved,  how  divinely  sweet 
Is  the  pure  joy  when  kindred  spirits  meet  ! 
Like  him,  the  river  god,  whose  waters  flow, 
With  love  their  only  light,  through  caves  below, 
Wafting  in  triumph  all  the  flowery  braids 
And  festal  rings  with  which  Olympic  maids 
Have  decked  his  current,  as  an  offering  meet 
To  lay  at  Arethusa's  shining  feet. 
Think,  when  he  meets  at  last  his  fountain  bride, 
What  perfect  love  must  thrill  the  blended  tide  ! 
Each  lost  in  each,  till  mingling  into  one, 
Their  lot  the  same  for  shadow  or  for  sun, 
A  type  of  true  love,  to  the  deep  they  run. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  69 

THE  LAMENTATION  OF  DANAE.* 

THE  night  winds  howled  —  the  billows  dashed 

Against  the  tossing  chest  ,* 
As  Danae  to  her  broken  heart 

Her  slumbering  infant  pressed. 

"  My  little  child,"  in  tears  she  said, 

"  To  wake  and  weep  is  mine ; 
But  thou  canst  sleep,  —  thou  dost  not  know 

Thy  mother's  lot  and  thine. 

"  The  moon  is  up ;  the  moonbeams  smile  — 

They  tremble  on  the  main ; 
But  dark,  within  my  floating  cell, 

To  me  they  smile  in  vain. 

"  Thy  folded  mantle  wraps  thee  warm, 

Thy  clustering  locks  are  dry, 
Thou  dost  not  hear  the  shrieking  gust, 

Nor  breakers  booming  high. 

"  As  o'er  thy  sweet,  unconscious  face 
A  mournful  watch  I  keep, 

*  See  Age  of  Fable,  p.  275. 


70      POETRY  QF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

I  think,  didst  thou  but  know  thy  fate, 
How  thou  wouldst  also  weep. 

"  Yet,  dear  one,  sleep ;  and  sleep,  ye  winds, 

That  vex  the  restless  brine  ;  — 
When  shall  these  eyes,  my  babe,  be  sealed 

As  peacefully  as  thine  ?  " 

SlMONIDES,  BY  BRYANT. 


CASSIOPEIA. 

ODE   TO   MELANCHOLY. 

GODDESS,  sage  and  holy, 
Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  sense  of  human  sight, 
And,  therefore,  to  our  weaker  view 
O'erlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom's  hue,  — 
Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 
Prince  Memnon's  sister  might  beseem, 
Or  that  starred  ^Ethiop  queen  that  strove 
To  set  her  beauty's  praise  above 
The  sea  nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended. 

MILTON. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  71 

PERSEUS. 

As  'mid  the  fabled  Libyan  bridal  stood 
Perseus  in  stern  tranquillity  of  wrath, 
Half  stood,  half  floated  on  his  ankle  plumes 
Out-swelling,  while  the  bright  face  on  his  shield 
Looked  into  stone  the  raging  fray ;  so  rose, 
But  with  no  magic  arms,  wearing  alone 
Th*  appalling  and  control  of  his  firm  look, 
The  Briton  Samor ;  at  his  rising  awe 
Went  abroad,  and  the  riotous  hall  was  mute. 

MlLMAN. 

•  IXI* 


MEDUSA.  — MINERVA'S  JEGIS. 

WHAT  was  that  snaky-headed  Gorgon  shield 
That  wise  Minerva  wore,  unconquered  virgin, 
Wherewith  she  freezed  her  foes  to  congealed  stone, 
But  rigid  looks  of  chaste  austerity, 
And  noble  grace  that  dashed  brute  violence 
With  sudden  adoration  and  blank  awe ! 

MILTON. 


72  POETRY  OF   THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE  EFFECT  OF  FROST  UPON  THE  WATERS. 

Now  blows  the  surly  North,  and  chills  throughout 
The  stiffening  regions,  while  by  stronger  charms 
Than  Circe  e'er  or  fell  Medea  brewed, 
Each  brook  that  wont  to  prattle  to  its  banks 
Lies  all  bestilled  and  wedged  betwixt  its  banks, 
Nor  moves  the  withered  reeds.  *  *  * 
The  surges  baited  by  the  fierce  North-east, 
Tossing  with  fretful  spleen  their  angry  heads, 
E'en  in  the  foam  of  all  their  madness  struck 
To  monumental  ice. 

*  *  #  *  # 

Such  execution, 

So  stern,  so  sudden,  wrought  the  grisly  aspect 
Of  terrible  Medusa, 
When  wandering  through  the  woods  she  turned 

to  stone 

Their  savage  tenants  ;  just  as  the  foaming  Lion 
Sprang  furious  on  his  prey,  her  speedier  power 
Outran  his  haste, 

And  fixed  in  that  fierce  attitude  he  stands 
Like  Rage  in  marble  ! 

ARMSTRONG. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  73 

PHOSPHORUS,   THE   MORNING  STAR. 

(Phosphorus  speaks.) 

To  rest !  to  rest !  the  herald  of  the  day, 
Bright  Phosphorus,  commands  you  hence,  away ! 
The  moon  is  pale  and  spent ;  and  winged  night, 
Makes  headlong  haste  to  fly  the  morning  light, 
Who  now  is  risen  from  her  blushing  wars, 
And  with  her  rosy  hand  puts  out  the  stars, 
Of  which  myself,  the  last,  her  harbinger, 
Do  stay  to  warn  you  that  you  not  defer 
Your  parting  hence. 

O,  yet  how  early !  and  before  her  time 
The  envious  morning  up  doth  climb, 
As  if  she  loved  not  bed. 
"What  haste  the  jealous  sun  doth  make 
His  fiery  horses  up  to  take, 
And  once  more  show  his  head 
Lest,  dazzled  with  the  brightness  of  this  night, 
The  world  should  wish  it  last,  and  never  miss  his 
light 

BEN  JONSON. 


74  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


CASTOR  AND  POLLUX, 

AS  THEY  APPEARED  AT  THE  BATTLE  OF  LAKE 
REGILLUS. 

So  like  they  were,  no  mortal 

Might  one  from  other  know ; 
White  as  snow  their  armor  was, 

Their  steeds  were  white  as  snow. 
Never  on  earthly  anvil 

Did  such  rare  armor  gleam, 
And  never  did  such  gallant  steeds 

Drink  of  an  earthly  stream. 
»        *        *        • 

Back  comes  the  chief  in  triumph, 

Who  in  the  hour  of  fight 
Hath  seen  the  great  Twin  Brethren 

In  harness  on  his  right. 
Safe  comes  the  ship  to  haven, 

Through  billows  and  through  gales, 
If  once  the  great  Twin  Brethren 

Sit  shining  on  the  sails. 

MACAULAY. 


WHEN  Winter  dips  his  pinion  in  the  seas, 
And  sailors  shudder  as  the  chilling  gale 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      75 

Makes  its  wild  music  through  the  Cyckdes, 
What  eyes  are  fixed  upon  the  cloudy  veil, 
Twin  warriors  !  to  behold  your  sapphire  mail, 
Shooting  its  splendors  through  the  rifted  sky ! 
What  joyous  hymns  your  stars  of  beauty  hail ! 
For  then  the  tempests  to  their  caverns  fly, 
And  on  the  pebbled  shore  the  yellow  surges  die. 

CBOLY. 


THE  WATER  DEITIES. 

SABRINA  fair, 
Listen  and  appear  to  us, 
In  name  of  great  Oceanus  ; 
By  the  earth-shaking  Neptune's  mace, 
And  Tethys'  grave,  majestic  pace, 
By  hoary  Nereus'  wrinkled  look, 
And  the  Carpathian  wizard's  hook,* 
By  scaly  Triton's  winding  shell, 
And  old  soothsaying  Glaucus'  spell, 
By  Leucothea's  lovely  hands, 
And  her  son  who  rules  the  strands, 
By  Thetis'  tinsel-slippered  feet, 
And  the  songs  of  Sirens  sweet ; "  &c. 

MILTON. 
*  Proteus. 


76  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE  NAIADS. 

O  COME,  ye  Naiads !  to  the  fountains  lead ! 
Propitious  maids  !  the  task  remains  to  sing 
Your  gifts,  (so  PaBon,  so  the  powers  of  Health 
Command,)  to  praise  your  crystal  element. 
O  comfortable  streams  !  with  eager  lips 
And  trembling  hands  the  languid  thirsty  quaff 
New  life  in  you ;  fresh  vigor  fills  their  veins. 
No  warmer  cups  the  rural  ages  knew, 
None  warmer  sought  the  sires  of  humankind ; 
Happy  in  temperate  peace  their  equal  days 
Felt  not  the  alternate  fits  of  feverish  mirth 
And  sick  dejection  ;  still  serene  and  pleased, 
Blessed  with  divine  immunity  from  ills, 
Long  centuries  they  lived ;  their  only  fete 
Was  ripe  old  age,  and  rather  sleep  than  death. 

ARMSTRONG. 


You  nymphs  called  Naiads,  of  the  wandering  brooks, 
With  your  sedged  crowns,  and  ever  harmless  looks, 
Leave  your  crisped  channels,  and  on  this  green  land 
Answer  your  summons. 


SHAKESPEARE. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  77 

EGERIA. 

EGERIA  !  sweet  creation  of  some  heart 
Which  found  no  mortal  resting  place  so  fair 
As  thine  ideal  breast ;  whatever  thou  art 
Or  wert,  —  a  young  Aurora  of  the  air, 
The  nympholepsy  *  of  some  fond  despair ; 
Or,  it  might  be,  a  beauty  of  the  earth, 
Who  found  a  more  than  common  votary  there, 
Too  much  adoring ;  whatsoe'er  thy  birth, 
Thou  wert  a  beautiful  thought,  and  softly  bodied 
forth. 

The  mosses  of  thy  fountain  still  are  sprinkled 
With  thine  Elysian  water  drops  ;  the  face 
Of  thy  cave-guarded  spring,  with  years  unwrinkled, 
Reflects  the  meek-eyed  genius  of  the  place, 
Whose  green,  wild  margin  now  no  more  erase 
Art's  works ;  nor  must  the  delicate  waters  sleep, 
Prisoned  in  marble  ;  bubbling  from  the  base 
Of  the  cleft  statue,  with  a  gentle  leap 
The  rill  runs  o'er,  and  round,  fern,  flowers,  and  ivy 
creep. 

*  Nympholepsy,  tlie  being  possessed,  or  inspired,  by  a  nymph. 

7* 


78       POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Here  didst  thou  dwell,  in  this  enchanted  cover, 
Egeria !  thy  all-heavenly  bosom  beating 
For  the  iar  footsteps  of  thy  mortal  lover ; 
The  purple  midnight  veiled  that  mystic  meeting 
With  her  most  starry  canopy,  and  seating 
Thyself  by  thine  adorer,  what  befell  ? 
This  cave  was  surely  shaped  out  for  the  greeting 
Of  an  enamoured  goddess,  and  the  cell 
Haunted  by  holy  Love,  the  earliest  oracle. 

BYBOK. 
—  •!*!•• 


EGERIA'S  GROTTO. 

Lo !  where  darkness  seems  to  guard  the  mouth 
Of  yon  wild  cave,  whose  jagged  brows  are  fringed 
With  flaccid  thread  of  ivy,  in  the  still 
And  sultry  air  depending  motionless, 
Yet  cool  the  space  within,  and  not  uncheered 
By  stealthy  influx  of  the  timid  day 
Mingling  with  night,  such  twilight  to  compose 
As  Numa  loved ;  when,  in  the  Egerian  grot, 
From  the  sage  nymph  appearing  at  his  wish, 
He  gained  whatever  a  regal  mind  might  ask; 
Or  need,  of  counsel  breathed  though  lips  divine. 

WORDSWORTH. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  79 

NUMA  AND  EGERIA. 

HOLDING  one  hand  against  his  ear, 

To  list  a  footfall  ere  he  saw 
The  wood  nymph,  staid  the  Tuscan  king  to  hear 

Of  wisdom  and  of  law. 

TENNYSON. 

•  •tail" 


ZEPHYRUS  AND  FLORA. 

HE  on  his  side 

Leaning  half  raised,  with  looks  of  cordial  love, 
Hung  over  her  enamoured,  and  beheld 
Beauty  which,  whether  waking  or  asleep, 
Shot  forth  peculiar  graces  ;  then,  with  voice 
Mild  as  when  Zephyrus  on  Flora  breathes, 
Her  hand  soft  touching,  whispered  thus  :  "  Awake  ! 
My  fairest,  my  espoused,  my  latest  found, 
Heaven's  last,  best  gift,  my  ever-new  delight." 

MILTON. 


FAVONIUS. 


YE  delicate  !  who  nothing  can  support, 
(Yourselves  most  insupportable,)  for  whom 
The  winter  rose  must  blow,  and  silky  soft 
Favonius  breathe  still  sc.^.er,  or  be  chid. 


80      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


POMONA. 

PHILLIPS,  Pomona's  bard,  the  second  thou 
"Who  nobly  durst,  in  rhyme-unfettered  verse, 
"With  British  freedom,  sing  the  British  song. 

THOMSONS 


BEAR  me,  Pomona,  to  thy  citron  groves, 
To  where  the  lemon  and  the  piercing  lime, 
"With  the  deep  orange,  glowing  through  the  green, 
Their  lighter  glories  blend.     Lay  me  reclined 
Beneath  the  spreading  tamarind,  that  shakes, 
Fanned  by  the  breeze,  its  fever-cooling  fruit. 

THOMSON. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      81 

POMONA  loves  the  orchard, 

And  Liber  loves  the  vine, 
And  Pales  loves  the  straw-built  shed 

Warm  with  the  breath  of  kine ; 
And  Venus  loves  the  whisper 

Of  plighted  youth  and  maid, 
In  April's  ivory  moonlight, 

Beneath  the  chestnut  shade. 

MACAULAY. 


THE  ISLE  OF  LOVE. 

As  now  triumphant  to  their  native  shore, 
Through  the  wide  deep,  the  joyful  navy  bore, 
Before  the  fleet,  to  catch  the  heroes'  view, 
A  floating  isle  the  fair  enchantress  threw. 
Soon  as  the  floating  verdure  caught  their  sight, 
She  fixed,  unmoved,  the  island  of  delight. 
So  when,  in  childbirth  of  her  Jove-sprung  load, 
The  sylvan  goddess  and  the  bowyer  god, 
In  friendly  pity  of  Latona's  woes, 
Amid  the  waves  the  Deliari  isle  arose. 
And  now  led  smoothly  o'er  the  furrowed  tide, 
Right  to  the  Isle  of  Love  the  vessels  glide. 


82      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

The  bay  they  enter,  where,  on  every  hand, 
Around  them  clasps  the  flower-enamelled  land. 

***** 
A  thousand  boughs  aloft  to  heaven  display 
Their  fragrant  apples  shining  to  the  day ; 
The  orange  here  perfumes  the  buxom  air, 
And  boasts  the  golden  hue  of  Daphne's  hair ; 
Near  to  the  ground  each  spreading  bough  descends, 
Beneath  her  yellow  load  the  citron  bends ; 
Between  the  clustering  leaves  of  lucid  green, 
The  apple's  ripe  vermilion  blush  is  seen. 
For  here  each  gift  Pomona's  hand  bestows 
In  cultured  garden,  free,  uncultured  grows, 
The  flavor  sweeter,  and  the  hue  more  fair, 
Than  e'er  was  fostered  by  the  hand  of  care. 
The  cherry  here  in  shining  crimson  glows, 
And,  stained  with  lovers'  blood,  in  pendent  rows, 
The  bending  boughs  the  mulberries  o'erload ; 
The  bending  boughs,  caressed  by  Zephyr,  nod. 

Wild  forest  trees  the  mountain's  sides  arrayed 
With  curling  foliage  and  romantic  shade. 
Here  spreads  the  poplar,  to  Alcides  dear, 
And  dear  to  Phoebus,  ever  verdant  here, 
The  laurel  joins  the  bowers  forever  green, 
The  myrtle  bowers  beloved  by  beauty's  queen. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       83 

To  Jove  the  oak  his  wide-spread  branches  rears, 
And  high  to  heaven  the  fragrant  cedar  bears. 
Where  through  the  glades  appear  the  caverned  rocks, 
The  lofty  pine  tree  waves  her  sable  locks. 
Sacred  to  Cybele,  the  whispering  pine 
Loves  the  wild  grottoes  where  the  white  cliffs  shine. 
Here  towers  the  cypress,  preacher  to  the  wise ; 
Lessening  from  earth  her  spiral  honors  rise, 
Till,  as  a  spear-point  reared,  the  topmost  spray 
Points  to  the  Eden  of  eternal  day. 

A  thousand  flowers  of  gold,  of  white,  and  red, 
Far  o'er  the  shadowy  vale  their  carpets  spread, 
Of  fairer  tapestry,  and  of  richer  bloom, 
Than  ever  glowed  in  Persia's  boasted  loom. 
Here,  o'er  the  watery  mirror's  lucid  bed, 
Narcissus,  self-enamoured,  hangs  the  head. 
And  here,  bedewed  with  love's  celestial  tears, 
The  woe-marked  flower  of  slain  Adonis  rears 
Its  purple  head,  prophetic  of  the  reign 
When  lost  Adonis  shall  revive  again. 
The  hyacinth  bewrays  the  doleful  Ai, 
And  calls  the  tribute  of  Apollo's  sigh ; 
Still  on  its  bloom  the  mournful  flower  retains 
The  lovely  blue  that  dyed  the  stripling's  veins. 

CAMOENS,  BY  MICKLE. 


84  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

JANUS. 

Now,  by  two-headed  Janus, 
Nature  hath  formed  strange  fellows  in  her  time ; 
Some  that  will  evermore  peep  through  their  eyes, 
And  laugh,  like  parrots,  at  a  bagpiper ; 
And  other  of  such  vinegar  aspect, 
That  they'll  not  show  their  teeth  in  way  of  smile, 
Though  Nestor  sware  the  jest  be  laughable. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


THE  GODDESS  FORTUNE,  OCCASION,  OR 
OPPORTUNITY. 

INSCRIPTION  ON   THE  BASE  OF  A  STATUE  AT   FLORENCE. 

"  AH  !  what  art  thou,  of  more  than  mortal  birth, 
Whom  heaven  adorns   with   beauty's   brightest 
beam? 

On  wings  of  wind  why  spura'st  thou  thus  the  earth  ?  " 
"  Known  but  to  few,  Occasion  is  my  name. 

No  rest  I  find,  for  underneath  my  feet 

The  eternal  circle  rolls  that  speeds  my  way. 
And  these  my  glittering  pinions  I  display, 

That  from  the  dazzling  sight  thine  eyes  may  turn  away. 

In  full  luxuriance  o'er  my  angel  face 

Float  my  thick  tresses,  free  and  unconfined, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      85 

That  through  their  veil  my  features  few  may  trace  ; 

But  not  one  lock  adorns  my  head  behind ; 
Once  passed,  forever  gone  !  no  mortal  might 

May  bid  the  ceaseless  wheel  revolve  again." 
"  And  who  is  she  attendant  on  thy  flight  ?  " 

"  Repentance :  if  thou  grasp  at  me  in  vain, 
Then  must  thou  in  thine  arms  her  loathed  weight 

sustain. 
And  now,  while,  heedless  of  the  truths  I  sing, 

Vain  thoughts  and  fond  desires  thy  time  employ, 
Ah,  seest  thou  not,  on  soft  and  silken  wing, 

The  form  that  smiled  so  fair,  —  has  glided  by  ?  " 

MACHIAVELLI,  BY  ROSCOE. 


ENVY. 

[The  following  is  Ovid's  description  of  Envy.  Minerva,  on  a 
certain  occasion,  condescended  to  employ  the  fiend,  and  paid  a 
visit  to  her  cave.] 

HID  in  a  valley  deep  is  Envy's  cave, 
Impervious  to  the  sunshine  and  the  air ; 
Gloomy,  and  full  of  noisome  cold ;  wherein 
Fire  never  glows,  and  darkness  always  broods. 
Hither  when  came  the  goddess,  warrior-maid, 
She  stood  without,  (she  could  not  enter  in,) 
8 


5b      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And  smote  upon  the  doorposts  with  her  spear. 
The  doors  unfolded,  and  she  saw  within 
The  monster  at  her  meal  of  viper's  flesh, 
The  food  best  suited  to  recruit  her  powers. 
The  goddess  turned  away  her  eyes ;  the  fiend 
Rose  from  the  clammy  ground  and  left  her  meal 
Half  eaten,  and  with  sluggish  pace  advanced. 
When  she  beheld  the  goddess  bright  in  arms 
And  beautiful,  she  heaved  a  bitter  sigh. 
Paleness  was  o'er  her  lace,  her  form  was  thin, 
Livid  her  teeth,  her  bosom  full  of  gall, 
And  adder's  poison  lurked  beneath  her  tongue. 
She  never  looks  straight  forward,  never  smiles, 
Except  perchance  at  sight  of  human  woe  ; 
She  never  sleeps  ;  care  keeps  her  still  awake, 
And  pining  at  the  most  unwelcome  sight 
Of  human  joys :  —  rebuking  and  rebuked, 
She  is  herself  her  own  fit  punishment. 


FAME.* 

No  evil  spirit  flies  so  fast  as  Fame ; 
She  thrives  by  motion,  strengthening  as  she  goes ; 
Kept  down  at  first  by  fear,  soon  larger  grown, 
*  In  the  sense  of  Rumor. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      87 

She  walks  the  earth,  her  forehead  in  the  clouds. 

Earth,  angry  with  the  gods,  produced  her  last, 

Fit  sister  of  the  rebel  Titan  brood ; 

A  monster  fleet  of  foot,  and  fleet  of  wing, 

Terrific,  vast.     Beneath  her  wings  concealed, 

Eyes,  numerous  as  feathers,  stud  her  breast, 

With  ears  as  many,  and  as  many  tongues. 

By  night  'twixt  heaven  and  earth  the  monster  flies, 

Screeching  in  darkness,  sleepless,  vigilant ; 

By  day,  like  watchman  on  a  tower,  she  sits 

On  humble  roofs,  or  battlemented  walls, 

And  agitates  with  terror  mighty  towns. 

Loquacious  of  the  evil  and  the  false, 

As  willingly  as  herald  of  the  true. 

VIRGIL. 


RUMOR, 

[As  described  by  Shakespeare,  may  be  taken  as  a  companion- 
piece  to  Virgil's  Fame.] 

OPEN  your  ears !  for  which  of  you  will  stop 
The  sense  of  hearing  when  loud  Rumor  speaks  ? 
I  from  the  orient  to  the  drooping  west, 
Making  the  wind  my  posthorse,  still  unfold 
The  acts  commenced  on  this  ball  of  earth. 


88      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Upon  my  tongues  continual  slanders  ride, 
The  which  in  every  language  I  pronounce, 
Stuffing  the  ears  of  men  with  false  reports. 
I  speak  of  peace  when  covert  enmity 
Under  the  smile  of  safety  wounds  the  world. 
And  who  but  Rumor,  who  but  only  I 
Make  fearful  musters  and  prepared  defence, 
Whilst  the  big  year,  swollen  with  some  other  grief, 
Seems  to  portend  the  speedy  birth  of  war, 
And  no  such  matter  ? 

HENRY  IV.  2D  PART.   INTRODUCTION. 


THE  SEASONS. 

THE  seasons  alter ;  hoary-headed  frosts 
Fall  in  the  fresh  lap  of  the  crimson  rose ; 
And  on  old  Hyems'  chin,  and  icy  crown, 
An  odorous  chaplet  of  sweet  summer  buds 
Is,  as  in  mockery,  set ;  the  spring,  the  summer, 
The  chiding  autumn,  angry  winter,  change 
Their  wonted  liveries ;  and  the  'mazed  world 
By  their  increase  now  knows  not  which  is  which. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  89 

SONG  TO   PAN. 

SING  his  praises  that  doth  keep 

Our  flocks  from  harm, 
Pan,  the  father  of  our  sheep ; 

And,  arm  in  arm, 
Tread  we  softly  in  a  round, 
While  the  hollow,  neighboring  ground 
Fills  the  music  with  her  sound. 

Pan,  O  great  god  Pan,  to  thee 

Thus  do  we  sing ; 
Thou  that  keep'st  us  chaste  and  free 

As  the  young  spring ; 
Ever  be  thy  honor  spoke, 
From  that  place  the  morn  is  broke, 
To  that  place  day  doth  unyoke ! 

FLETCHER. 


PAN   INVOKED  FOR  HELP  AGAINST 
OUTRAGE. 

PAN,  for  her  dear  sake  * 
Who  loves  the  rivers'  brinks,  and  still  doth  shake 

*  Syrinx.    See  "  Age  of  Fable,"  page  48. 
8* 


90      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

In  cold  remembrance  of  thy  quick  pursuit, 

Let  me  be  made  a  reed,  and  ever  mute, 

Nod  to  the  water's  fall,  whilst  every  blast 

Sings  through  my  slender  leaves  that  I  was  chaste. 

FLETCHER. 


THE   GOLDEN  AGE. 

UNIVERSAL  Pan, 

Knit  with  the  Graces  and  the  Hours  in  dance, 
Led  on  the  eternal  spring. 

MILTON. 


EVE'S  BOWER. 

IN  shadier  bower, 

More  sacred  or  sequestered,  though  but  feigned, 
Pan  or  Sylvanus  never  slept,  nor  nymph 
Nor  Faunus  haunted.     Here  in  close  recess 
With  flowers,  garlands,  and  sweet-smelling  herbs, 
Espoused  Eve  decked  first  her  nuptial  bed, 
And  heavenly  quires  the  hymenaean  sung. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  91 

THE  DEITIES  DETHRONED. 

THE  lonely  mountains  o'er, 
And  the  resounding  shore, 
A  voice  of  weeping  heard  and  loud  lament ; 
From  haunted  spring  and  dale, 
Edged  with  poplar  pale, 
The  parting  genius  is  with  sighing  sent ; 
With  flower-enwoven  tresses  torn, 
The  nymphs  in  twilight  shade  of  tangled  thickets 
mourn.  MILTOK. 


THE  DEAD  PAN. 

[These  lines  are  founded  on  an  early  Christian  tradition 
that  at  the  moment  of  the  crucifixion,  a  deep  groan,  heard 
through  all  the  isles  of  Greece,  told  that  the  great  Pan  was 
dead,  and  all  the  royalty  of  Olympus  dethroned.] 

GODS  of  Hellas,  gods  of  Hellas, 
Can  ye  listen  in  your  silence  ? 
Can  your  mystic  voices  tell  us 

Where  ye  hide  ?     In  floating  islands, 
With  a  wind  that  evermore 
Keeps  you  out  of  sight  of  shore  ? 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 


92      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Gods  of  Hellas,  gods  of  Hellas, 
Said  the  old  Hellenic  tongue, 
Said  the  hero-oaths,  as  well  as 
Poets'  songs  the  sweetest  sung, 
Have  ye  grown  deaf  in  a  day  ? 
Can  ye  speak  not,  yea  or  nay, 
Since  Pan  is  dead  ? 

Do  ye  leave  your  rivers  flowing 

All  alone,  O  Naiades, 
While  your  drenched  locks  dry  slow  in 
This  cold  feeble  sun  and  breeze  ? 
Not  a  word  the  Naiads  say, 
Though  the  rivers  run  for  aye  ; 
For  Pan  is  dead. 

From  the  gloaming  of  the  oak  wood, 

0  ye  Dryads,  could  ye  flee  ? 
At  the  rushing  thunderstroke  would 
No  sob  tremble  through  the  tree  ?. 
Not  a  word  the  Dryads  say, 
Though  the  forests  wave  for  aye ; 
For  Pan  is  dead. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       93 

Have  ye  left  the  mountain  places, 

Oreads  wild,  for  other  tryst  ? 
Shall  we  see  no  sudden  faces 
Strike  a  glory  through  the  mist  ? 
Not  a  sound  the  silence  thrills 
Of  the  everlasting  hills. 

Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

Jove !  that  right  hand  is  unloaded, 
Whence  the  thunder  did  prevail ; 
While,  in  idiocy  of  godhead, 
Thou  art  staring  the  stars  pale ! 
And  thine  eagle,  blind  and  old, 
Roughs  his  feathers  in  the  cold. 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

Where,  O  Juno,  is  the  glory 

Of  thy  regal  look  and  tread  ? 
Will  they  lay,  forevermore,  thee 
On  thy  dim,  straight,  golden  bed  ? 
Will  thy  queendom  all  lie  hid 
Meekly  under  either  lid  ? 

Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Ha,  Apollo  !    Floats  his  golden 

Hair  all  mist-like  where  he  stands  ; 
While  the  Muses  hang  enfolding 
Knee  and  foot  with  faint  wild  hands  ? 
'Neath  the  clanging  of  thy  bow 
Niobe  looked  lost  as  thou ! 

Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

Shall  the  casque  with  its  brown  iron 

Pallas'  broad  blue  eyes  eclipse, 
And  no  hero  take  inspiring 

From  the  god-Greek  of  her  lips  ? 
'Neath  her  olive  dost  thou  sit, 
Mars,  the  mighty,  cursing  it  ? 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

Bacchus,  Bacchus !  on  the  panther 

He  swoons,  —  bound  with  his  own  vines ! 
And  his  Moenads  slowly  saunter, 
Head  aside,  among  the  pines, 

While  they  murmur  dreamingly,  — 
"  Evohe  —  ah  —  evohe ! " 

Ah,  Pan  is  dead. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       95 

Neptune  lies  beside  the  trident, 

Dead  and  senseless  as  a  stone ; 
And  old  Pluto,  deaf  and  silent, 
Is  cast  out  into  the  sun. 

Ceres  smileth  stern  thereat, — 
"  We  all  now  are  desolate. 

Now  Pan  is  dead." 

Aphrodite  !  dead  and  driven 

As  thy  native  foam  thou  art, 
With  the  cestus  long  done  heaving 
On  the  white  calm  of  thy  heart ! 
Ai  Adonis  !     At  that  shriek, 
Not  a  tear  runs  down  her  cheek. 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

And  the  Loves  we  used  to  know  from 

One  another,  —  middled  lie, 
Frore  as  taken  in  a  snow  storm, 
Close  beside  her  tenderly,  — 
As  if  each  had  weakly  tried 
Once  to  kiss  her  as  he  died. 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 


96      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

What,  and  Hermes !     Time  inthralleth 

All  thy  cunning,  Hermes,  thus,  — 
And  the  ivy  blindly  crawleth 
Round  thy  brave  caduceus ! 

Hast  thou  no  new  message  for  us, 
Full  of  thunder  and  Jove-glories  ? 
Nay,  Pan  is  dead. 

Crowned  Cybele's  great  turret 

Rocks  and  crumbles  on  her  head  ; 
Roar  the  lions  of  her  chariot 
Toward  the  wilderness,  unfed  : 
Scornful  children  are  not  mute,  — 
"  Mother,  mother,  walk  afoot, 
Since  Pan  is  dead." 

In  the  fiery-hearted  centre 
Of  the  solemn  universe, 
Ancient  Vesta,  —  who  could  enter 
To  consume  thee  with  this  curse  ? 
Drop  thy  gray  chin  on  thy  knee, 
O  thou  palsied  mystery ! 

For  Pan  is  dead. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.       97 

Gods !  \ve  vainly  do  adjure  you, 
Ye  return  nor  voice  nor  sign  : 
Not  a  votary  could  secure  you 
Even  a  grave  for  your  divine 
Not  a  grave,  to  show  thereby, 
Here  these  gray  old  gods  do  lie  ! 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

Even  that  Greece  who  took  your  wages, 

Calls  the  obolus  outworn ; 
And  the  hoarse,  deep-throated  ages 
Laugh  your  godships  unto  scorn ; 
And  the  poets  do  disclaim  you, 
Or  grow  colder  if  they  name  you ; 
And  Pan  is  dead. 

Gods  bereaved,  gods  belated, 

With  your  purples  rent  asunder ! 
Gods  discrowned  and  desecrated, 
Disinherited  of  thunder! 

Now  the  goats  may  climb  and  crop 
The  soft  grass  on  Ida's  top, 

Now  Pan  is  dead. 
9 


98       POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE, 

Calm  at  eve  the  bark  went  onward, 

When  a  cry  more  loud  than  wind, 
Hose  up,  deepened,  and  swept  sunward, 
From  the  piled  Dark  behind  ; 

And  the  sun  shrank  and  grew  pale 
Breathed  against  by  the  great  wail,  — 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

And  the  rowers  from  the  benches 

Fell,  each  shuddering,  on  his  face ; 
While  departing  influences 

Struck  a  cold  back  through  the  place  ; 
And  the  shadow  of  the  ship 
Reeled  along  the  passive  deep. 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

And  that  dismal  cry  rose  slowly, 

And  sank  slowly  through  the  air ; 
Full  of  spirits'  melancholy 
And  eternity's  despair ! 
And  they  heard  the  words  it  said,  — 
Pan  is  dead,  great  Pan  is  dead. 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      99 

Twas  the  hour  when  one  in  Sion 

Hung  for  love's  sake  on  a  cross ; 

When  his  brow  was  chill  with  dying, 

And  his  soul  was  faint  with  loss ; 

When  his  priestly  blood  dropped  downward 
And  his  kingly  eyes  looked  throneward, 
Then,  Pan  was  dead. 

By  the  love  He  stood  alone  in, 

His  sole  Godhead  stood  complete ; 
And  the  false  gods  fell  down  moaning, 
Each  from  off  his  golden  seat. 
All  the  false  gods  with  a  cry 
Rendered  up  their  deity. 

Pan,  Pan  was  dead. 

Wailing  wide  across  the  islands, 

They  rent,  vest-like,  their  Divine ! 
And  a  darkness  and  a  silence 

Quenched  the  light  of  every  shrine ; 
And  Dodona's  oak  swang  lonely 
Henceforth  to  the  tempest  only. 
Pan,  Pan  was  dead. 


100     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Pythia  staggered,  feeling  o'er  her 
Her  lost  god's  forsaking  look ! 
Straight  her  eyeballs  filled  with  horror, 
And  her  crispy  fillets  shook ; 

And  her  lips  gasped  through  their  foam 
For  a  word  that  did  not  come. 
Pan,  Pan  was  dead. 

O  ye  vain  false  gods  of  Hellas, 

Ye  are  silent  evermore ! 
And  I  dash  down  this  old  chalice 
Whence  libations  ran  of  yore. 
See  !  the  wine  crawls  in  the  dust 
Wormlike,  as  your  glories  must ! 
Since  Pan  is  dead. 

Get  to  dust,  as  common  mortals, 

By  a  common  doom  and  track ! 
Let  no  Schiller  *  from  the  portals 
Of  that  Hades  call  you  back, 
Or  instruct  us  to  weep  all 
At  your  antique  funeral. 

Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

*  These  lines  were  occasioned  by  a  poem  of  Schiller's,  ex- 
pressing regret  for  the  overthrow  of  the  beautiful  mythology  of 
the  ancients. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      101 

By  your  beauty  which  confesses 

Some  chief  Beauty  conquering  you, 
By  our  grand  heroic  guesses, 

Through  your  falsehood  at  the  True, 
We  will  weep  not !  earth  shall  roll 
Heir  to  each  god's  aureole  ; 
And  Pan  is  dead. 

Earth  outgrows  the  mythic  fancies 

Sung  beside  her  in  her  youth; 
And  those  debonnaire  romances 
Sound  but  dull  beside  the  truth. 
Phoebus'  chariot  course  is  run ! 
Look  up,  poets,  to  the  sun ! 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 

What  is  true  and  just  and  honest, 

What  is  lovely,  what  is  pure  ; 
All  of  praise  that  hath  admonished,  — 
All  of  virtue,  shall  endure  ; 

These  are  themes  for  poets'  uses, 
Stirring  nobler  than  the  Muses, 
Ere  Pan  was  dead. 
9* 


102     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

O  brave  poets,  keep  back  nothing ; 

Nor  mix  falsehood  with  the  whole ! 
Look  up  Godward !  speak  the  truth  in 
Worthy  song  from  earnest  soul. 
Hold,  in  high  poetic  duty, 
Truest  truth,  the  fairest  beauty ! 
Pan,  Pan  is  dead. 


PROMETHEUS. 

TITAN  !  to  whose  immortal  eyes 
The  sufferings  of  mortality, 
Seen  in  their  sad  reality, 

Were  not  as  things  that  gods  despise ; 

What  was  thy  pity's  recompense  ? 

A  silent  suffering,  and  intense  ; 

The  rock,  the  vulture,  and  the  chain ; 

All  that  the  proud  can  feel  of  pain ; 

The  agony  they  do  not  show ; 

The  suffocating  sense  of  woe. 

Thy  godlike  crime  was  to  be  kind ; 
To  render  with  thy  precepts  less 
The  sum  of  human  wretchedness, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      103 

And  strengthen  man  with  his  own  mind. 

And,  baffled  as  thou  wert  from  high, 

Still,  in  thy  patient  energy, 
In  the  endurance  and  repulse 

Of  thine  impenetrable  spirit, 
Which  earth  and  heaven  could  not  convulse, 

A  mighty  lesson  we  inherit. 

BYRON. 


FROM  THE  ODE  TO  NAPOLEON. 

LIKE  the  thief  of  fire  from  heaven 

Wilt  thou  withstand  the  shock, 
And  share  with  him,  the  unforgiven, 

His  vulture  and  his  rock  ? 

BYBON. 

•USES" 


PANDORA. 

EVE   COMPARED  TO   PANDORA. 

MORE  lovely  than  Pandora,  whom  the  gods 
Endowed  with  all  their  gifts  ;  and  O,  too  like 
In  sad  event,  when,  to  the  unwiser  son 
Of  Japhet  brought  by  Hermes,  she  insnared 
Mankind  with  her  fair  looks,  to  be  avenged 
On  him  who  had  stole  Jove's  authentic  fire. 

MILTON. 


104  POETRY  OF   THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

HOPE. 

PRIMEVAL  Hope,  the  Aonian  Muses  say, 
When  man  and  nature  mourned  their  first  decay ; 
When  every  form  of  death,  and  every  woe, 
Shot  from  malignant  stars  to  earth  below ; 
When  Murder  bared  his  arm,  and  rampant  War 
Yoked  the  red  dragons  of  his  iron  car ; 
When  Peace  and  Mercy,  banished  from  the  plain, 
Sprung  on  the  viewless  winds  to  heaven  again ; 
All,  all  forsook  the  friendless,  guilty  mind, 
But  Hope,  the  charmer,  lingered  still  behind. 


ASTR^EA. 

Now  when  the  world  with  sin  'gan  to  abound, 
Astrsea,  loathing  longer  here  to  space, 
'Mongst  wicked  men,  in  whom  no  truth  she  found, 
"Returned  to  heaven,  whence  she  derived  her  race ; 
Where  she  hath  now  an  everlasting  place, 
'Mongst  those  twelve  Signs,  which  nightly  we  do  see 
The  heaven's  bright-shining  baldric  *  to  enchase, 
And  is  the  Virgin,  sixth  in  her  degree, 
And  next  herself  her  righteous  balance  hanging  be. 

SPENSER. 
*  Baldric,  belt,  girdle,  the  Zodiac. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  105 

THE   RETURN  OF  THE   GOLDEN  AGE. 

ALL  crimes  shall  cease,  and  ancient  fraud  shall  fail, 
Returning  Justice  lift  aloft  her  scale, 
Peace  o'er  the  world  her  olive  wand  extend, 
And  white-robed  Innocence  from  heaven  descend. 

POPE. 

YEA,  Truth  and  Justice  then 
Will  down  return  to  men, 
Orbed  in  a  rainbow,  and,  like  glories  wearing, 
Mercy  will  sit  between, 
Throned  in  celestial  sheen, 

With  radiant  feet  the  tissued  clouds  down-steering, 
And  Heaven,  as  at  some  festival, 
Will  open  wide  the  gates  of  her  high  palace  hall. 

MILTON. 


ECHO  AND  NARCISSUS. 

SONG. 

SWEET  Echo,  sweetest  nymph,  that  hVst  unseen 
Within  thy  aery  shell, 

By  slow  Meander's  margent  green, 
And  in  the  violet-embroidered  vale, 

Where  the  love-lorn  nightingale 


106     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Nightly  to  thee  her  sad  song  mourneth  well ; 
Canst  thou  not  tell  me  of  a  gentle  pair 
That  likest  thy  Narcissus  are  ? 

O,  if  thou  have 
Hid  them  in  some  flowery  cave, 

Tell  me  but  where, 

Sweet  queen  of  parley,  daughter  of  the  sphere, 
So  mayst  thou  be  translated  to  the  skies, 
And  give  resounding  grace  to  all  heaven's  harmonies. 


[Milton  has  imitated  the  story  of  Narcissus  in  the  account 
which  he  makes  Eve  give  of  the  first  sight  of  herself,  reflected 
in  the  fountain.] 

THAT  day  I  oft  remember  when  from  sleep 
I  first  awaked,  and  found  myself  reposed 
Under  a  shade  on  flowers,  much  wondering  where 
And  what  I  was,  whence  thither  brought,  and  how. 
Not  distant  far  from  thence  a  murmuring  sound 
Of  waters  issued  from  a  cave,  and  spread 
Into  a  liquid  plain,  then  stood  unmoved, 
Pure  as  the  expanse  of  heaven ;  I  thither  went 
With  unexperienced  thought,  and  laid  me  down 
On  the  green  bank,  to  look  into  the  clear 
Smooth  lake  that  to  me  seemed  another  sky. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      107 

As  I  bent  down  to  look,  just  opposite 
A  shape  within  the  watery  gleam  appeared, 
Bending  to  look  on  me.     I  started  back  ; 
It  started  back :  but  pleased  I  soon  returned ; 
Pleased  it  returned  as  soon  with  answering  looks 
Of  sympathy  and  love.     There  had  I  fixed 
Mine  eyes  till  now,  and  pined  with  vain  desire, 
Had  not  a  voice  thus  warned  me  :  "  What  thou  seest, 
What  there  thou  seest,  fair  creature,  is  thyself ; "  &c. 


NARCISSUS. 

[The  author,  Thomas  Blacklock,  was  blind  from  the  age  of 
six  months,  in  consequence  of  small  pox.  Yet  he  paints  flowers 
with  artist-like  precision.] 

LET  long-lived  pansies  here  their  scents  bestow, 
The  violet  languish,  and  the  roses  glow ; 
In  yellow  glory  let  the  crocus  shine, 
Narcissus  here  his  lovesick  head  recline  ; 
Here  hyacinths  in  purple  sweetness  rise, 
And  tulips  tinged  with  beauty's  fairest  dyes. 


108  POETRY   OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

TO   A  MIRROR. 

FROM   GARCILASO    DE    LA   VEGA. 

SINCE  still  my  passion-pleading  strains 
Have  failed  her  heart  to  move, 

Show,  mirror,  to  that  lovely  maid, 
The  charms  that  make  me  love. 

Reflect  on  her  the  thrilling  beam 

Of  magic  from  her  eye  ; 
So,  like  Narcissus,  she  shall  gaze, 

And,  self-enamoured,  die. 


PACTOLUS. 

AND  round  about  the  same  her  yellow  hair, 
Having  through  stirring  loosed  their  wonted  band, 
Like  to  a  golden  border  did  appear, 
Framed  in  goldsmith's  forge  with  cunning  hand. 
Yet  goldsmiths'  cunning  could  not  understand 
To  frame  such  subtle  wire,  so  shiny  clear ; 
For  it  did  glisten  like  the  golden  sand, 
The  which  Pactolus,  with  his  waters  sheer, 
Throws  forth  upon  the  rivage  round  about  him  near. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      109 

ON  THE  STATUE   OF  THESEUS  IN  THE 
BRITISH  MUSEUM. 

AY,  this  is  he, 

A  proud  and  mighty  spirit ;  how  fine  his  form 
Gigantic !  moulded  like  the  race  that  strove 
To  take  Jove's  heaven  by  storm,  and  scare  him  from 
Olympus.     There  he  sits,  a  demi-god, 
Stern  as  when  he  of  yore  forsook  the  maid 
Who  doting  saved  him  from  the  Cretan  toil, 
Where  he  had  slain  the  Minotaur.     Alas  ! 
Fond  Ariadne,  thee  did  he  desert, 
And  heartless  left  thee  on  the  Naxos  shore 
To  languish.     This  is  he  who  dared  to  roam 
The  world  infernal,  and  on  Pluto's  queen, 
Ceres'  own  lost  Proserpina,  did  lay 
His  hand ;  thence  was  he  prisoned  in  the  vaults 
Beneath,  till  freed  by  Hercules.     Methinks 
(So  perfect  is  the  Phidian  stone)  his  sire, 
The  sea  god  Neptune,  hath  in  anger  stopped.. 
The  current  of  life,  and  with  his  trident  touch 
Hath  struck  him  into  marble. 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 

10 


110  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


ATALANTA. 

EVEN  here,  in  this  region  of  wonders,  I  find 
That  light-footed  Fancy  leaves  Truth  far  behind ; 
Or,  at  least,  like  Hippomenes,  turns  her  astray 
By  the  golden  illusions  he  flings  in  her  way. 

MOORE 


ARIADNE. 

As  dash  the  waves  on  Naxos'  rocky  strand, 
Her  flushed  cheek  pressed  upon  her  snowy  hand, 
Fair  Ariadne  sits,  upturns  her  eyes, 
Upbraids  her  Theseus,  and  invokes  the  skies. 
For  him  she  breathes  the  silent  sigh  forlorn, 
Each  setting  day,  and  weeps  each  rising  morn. 
"  Bright  stars !  that  light  yon  blue,  ethereal  plain, 
Or  bathe  your  shining  tresses  in  the  main ; 
Pale  moon !  that  silverest  o'er  night's  sable  brow, 
Ye  heard,  ye  listened  to  his  love-breathed  vow. 
Ye  shadowy  rocks,  dark  caves,  and  sounding  shore, 
Ye  echoed  sweet  the  tender  words  he  swore ; 
O  winds !  O  waves !  his  light-winged  bark  detain, 
And  give  my  Theseus  to  my  arms  again." 

CATULLUS. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      Ill 

ARIADNE'S   CROWN. 

LOOK  how  the  crown  which  Ariadne  wore 
Upon  her  ivory  forehead  that  same  day 
That  Theseus  her  unto  his  bridal  bore, 
When  the  bold  Centaurs  made  that  bloody  fray 
With  the  fierce  Lapiths  which  did  them  dismay, 
Being  now  placed  in  the  firmament, 
Through  the  bright  heaven  doth  her  beams  display, 
And  is  unto  the  stars  an  ornament, 
Which  round  about  her  move  in  order  excellent. 


THE  LABYRINTH. 

SUFFOLK,  stay ; 

Thou  mayst  not  wander  in  that  Labyrinth ; 
There  Minotaurs  and  ugly  treasons  lurk. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


112  POETRY   OF   THE  AGE   OF   FABLE. 


PSYCHE  BEFORE   HER  REVERSE. 

FROM    "  LOVE'S    MISTRESS,"    A     PLAY    OF    HEYWOOD,    A 
CONTEMPORARY    OF    SHAKESPEARE. 

ADMETUS,  the  father  of  Psyche.     ASTIOCHE.  and  PETR^A.  her 
sisters. 

Admetus. 

WELCOME  to  both  in  one !    O,  can  you  tell 
What  fate  your  sister  hath  ? 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     113 

Sisters. 

Psyche  is  well. 
Admetus. 

So,  among  mortals,  it  is  often  said, 
Children  and  friends  are  well  when  they  are  dead. 

Astioche. 

But  Psyche  lives,  and  on  her  breath  attend 
Delights  that  far  surmount  all  earthly  joy  5 
Music,  sweet  voices,  and  ambrosian  fare ; 
Winds,  and  the  light-winged  creatures  of  the  air. 
Clear  channelled  rivers,  springs,  and  flowery  meads 

Are  proud  when  Psyche  wantons  on  their  streams, 
When  Psyche  on  their  rich  embroidery  treads, 

When  Psyche  gilds  their  crystal  with  her  beams. 
We  have  but  seen  our  sister,  and,  behold ! 
She  sends  us  with  our  laps  full  brimmed  with  gold. 

•  •tact" 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE. 

THEY  wove  bright  fables  in  the  days  of  old, 
When  reason  borrowed  fancy's  painted  wings ; 

When  truth's  clear  river  flowed  o'er  sands  of  gold, 
And  told  in  song  its  high  and  mystic  things ! 
10* 


114     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And  such  the  sweet  and  solemn  tale  of  her, 
The  pilgrim  heart,  to  whom  a  dream  was  given 

That  led  her  through  the  world, — Love's  worship- 
per,— 
To  seek  on  earth  for  him  whose  home  was  heaven ! 

In  the  full  city,  —  by  the  haunted  fount,  — 

Through  the  dim  grotto's  tracery  of  spars, — 
'Mid  the  pine  temples,  on  the  moon-lit  mount, 

Where  silence  sits  to  listen  to  the  stars ; 
In  the  deep  glade  where  dwells  the  brooding  dove, 

The  painted  valley,  and  the  scented  air, 
She  heard  far  echoes  of  the  voice  of  Love, 

And  found  his  footsteps'  traces  every  where. 

But  never  more  they  met !  since  doubts  and  fears, 
Those  phantom  shapes  that  haunt  and  blight  the 

earth, 
Had  come  'twixt  her,  a  child  of  sin  and  tears, 

And  that  bright  spirit  of  immortal  birth ; 
Until  her  pining  soul  and  weeping  eyes 
Had  learned  to  seek  him  only  in  the  skies ; 
Till  wings  unto  the  weary  heart  were  given, 
And  she  became  Love's  angel  bride  in  heaven ! 

T.  K.  HARVEY. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     115 

CUPID  AND  PSYCHE. 

CELESTIAL  Cupid,  her  famed  son,  advanced, 
Holds  his  dear  Psyche  sweet  entranced, 
After  her  wandering  labors  long, 
Till  free  consent  the  gods  among 
Make  her  his  eternal  bride ; 
And  from  her  fan'  unspotted  side 
Two  blissful  twins  are  to  be  born, 
Youth  and  Joy ;  so  Jove  hath  sworn. 

MILTON. 


O  LATEST  born  and  loveliest  vision  far 

Of  all  Olympus'  faded  hierarchy ! 
Fairer  than  Phoebe's  sapphire-regioned  star, 

Or  Vesper,  amorous  glow-worm  of  the  sky ; 
Fairer  than  these,  though  temple  thou  hast  none, 

Nor  altar  heaped  with  flowers, 
Nor  virgin  choir  to  make  delicious  moan 

Upon  the  midnight  hours ; 
No  voice,  no  lute,  no  pipe,  no  incense  sweet, 

From  chain-swung  censer  teeming ; 
No  shrine,  no  grove,  no  oracle,  no  heat 
Of  pale-mouthed  prophet  dreaming. 

KEATS. 


116  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE  FANCY  BALL. 

NOT  in  dark  disguise  to-night 

Hath  our  young  heroine  veiled  her  light ;  — 

For  see,  she  walks  the  earth,  Love's  own, 
His  wedded  bride,  by  holiest  vow 

Pledged  in  Olympus,  and  made  known 
To  mortals  by  the  type  which  now 
Hangs  glittering  on  her  snowy  brow, 

That  butterfly,  mysterious  trinket, 

Which  means  the  soul,  (though  few  would  think  it,) 

And  sparkling  thus  on  brow  so  white 

Tells  us  we've  Psyche  here  to-night. 

MOORE. 


CADMUS,  THE   INVENTOR  OF  LETTERS. 

You  have  the  letters  Cadmus  gave, 
Think  you  he  meant  them  for  a  slave  ? 

BYRON. 

-   -  •  »  4  3§  i  •  ° 

CAUMUS  CHANGED  INTO  A  SERPENT. 

PLEASING  was  his  shape, 
And  lovely :  never  since  of  serpent  kind 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     117 

Lovelier ;  not  those  that  in  Illyria  changed 
Hermione  and  Cadmus,  nor  the  god 
In  Epidaurus. 

MILTOIT. 


DAEDALUS  AND  ICARUS. 

WITH  melting  wax  and  loosened  strings 
Sank  hapless  Icarus  on  unfaithful  wings  ; 
Headlong  he  rushed  through  the  affrighted  air, 
With  limbs  distorted  and  dishevelled  hair  ; 
His  scattered  plumage  danced  upon  the  wave, 
And  sorrowing  Nereids  decked  his  watery  grave  ; 
O'er  his  pale  corse  their  pearly  sea-flowers  shed, 
And  strewed  with  crimson  moss  his  marble  bed  ; 
Struck  in  their  coral  towers  the  passing  bell, 
And  wide  in  ocean  tolled  his  echoing  knell. 

DARWIN. 


THE   SHEPHERD  ACIS  INVITES  THE  SEA 
NYMPH   GALATEA. 

COME,  Galatea  !  leave  the  rolling  seas  ; 
Can  rugged  rocks  and  heaving  surges  please  ? 
Come,  taste  the  pleasures  of  our  sylvan  bowers, 
Our  balmy-breathing  gales  and  fragrant  flowers. 


118      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

See  how  our  plains  rejoice  on  every  side, 

How   crystal  streams  through  blooming  valleys 

glide; 

O'er  the  cool  grot  the  whitening  poplars  bend, 
And  clasping  vines  their  grateful  umbrage  lend. 
Come,  beauteous  nymph  !  forsake  the  briny  wave ; 
Loud  on  the  beach  let  the  wild  billows  rave. 

VIRGIL,  BY  BEATTIE. 


GALATEA  RELATES   THE   DEATH  OF  ACIS. 

HIGH  on  a  rock  'gainst  which  the  wild  waves  beat, 

The  giant  Cyclops  chose  his  lonely  seat. 

A  hundred  reeds  of  a  prodigious  growth 

Scarce  made  a  pipe  for  his  capacious  mouth, 

Which  when  he  gave  it  breath,  the  rocks  around, 

And  watery  plains,  the  dreadful  noise  resound. 

I  heard  the  ruffian  giant  rudely  blow, 

As  with  my  Acis  blest  I  sat  below. 

A  hollow  cave  our  close  retreat  we  made, 

Which  safe  concealed  us  in  its  ample  shade ; 

And  thus  he  sang  :  "  O  Galatea  fair, 

More  white  than  snow,  more  sweet  than  lilies  are, 

More  playful  than  a  kid,  more  smooth  thy  skin 

Than  fairest  shells  that  on  these  shores  are  seen; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     119 

Come  to  my  palace  in  the  rock ;  'tis  made 
By  Nature's  hand,  a  spacious,  pleasing  shade ; 
My  garden  filled  with  fruits  you  may  behold, 
And  grapes  in  clusters,  imitating  gold  ; 
Some  blushing  bunches  of  a  purple  hue ; 
And  these  and  those  are  all  reserved  for  you. 
Red  strawberries  in  shades  expecting  stand, 
Proud  to  be  gathered  by  so  fair  a  hand. 
Nor  chestnuts  shall  be  wanting  to  your  food, 
Nor  garden  fruits,  nor  apples  of  the  wood. 
The  laden  boughs  for  you  alone  shall  bear, 
And  yours  shall  be  the  produce  of  the  year. 

"  The  flocks  you  see  are  all  my  own,  beside 
The  rest  that  woods  and  winding  valleys  hide ; 
New  milk,  in  nut  brown  bowls,  shall  be  your  fare, 
And  dainty  cheese,  which  we  from  cream  prepare  ; 
All  sorts  of  venison,  and  of  birds  the  best,  — 
A  pair  of  turtles  taken  from  the  nest. 
I  walked  the  mountains,  and  two  fawns  I  found, 
Whose  mother  left  them  on  the  naked  ground ; 
So  like  that  no  distinction  could  be  seen, 
So  pretty,  they  are  presents  for  a  queen. 
And  they  shall  be.     I  took  them  both  away, 
And  keep  to  be  companions  of  your  play." 


120     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Thus  far  unseen,  I  heard,  when,  fatal  chance ! 
His  looks  directing  with  a  sudden  glance, 
Acis  and  I  were  to  his  sight  betrayed, 
Where,  nought  suspecting,  we  securely  staid. 
From  his  huge  mouth  a  bellowing  cry  he  cast : 
"  I  see,  I  see !  but  this  shall  be  your  last." 
Affrighted  with  his  monstrous  voice  I  fled, 
And  in  the  neighboring  ocean  plunged  my  head. 
Poor  Acis  followed  me,  and,  "  Help  ! "  he  cried, 
"  Help  !  Galatea,  help !  my  parent  gods, 
I  die ;  O,  take  me  to  your  deep  abodes." 
The  Cyclops  followed ;  but  he  sent  before 
A  monstrous  stone,  which  from  the  rock  he  tore ; 
Crushed  by  the  weight,  and  whelmed  beneath  the 

stone, 

•  The  mighty  fragment  was  enough  alone 
To  kill  my  Acis.     Twas  too  late  to  save ; 
But  what  the  Fates  allowed  to  give,  I  gave. 
Changed  to  a  stream,  he  rolls  along  the  plains, 
"With  sparkling  waters,  and  his  name  retains. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  121 

BELLEROPHON. 

DESCEND  from  heaven,  Urania,  by  that  name 
If  rightly  thou  art  called,  whose  voice  divine 
Following,  above  the  Olympian  hill  I  soar, 
Above  the  flight  of  Pegasean  wing. 

Upled  by  thee, 

Into  the  heaven  of  heavens  I  have  presumed, 
An  earthly  guest,  and  drawn  empyreal  air, 
(Thy  tempering ;)  with  like  safety  guided  down 
Return  me  to  my  native  element ; 
Lest  from  this  flying  steed  unreined,  (as  once 
Bellerophon,  though  from  a  lower  sphere,) 
Dismounted  on  the  Aleian  field  I  fall, 
Erroneous  there  to  wander  and  forlorn. 

MILTON. 

'•IK!" 


BELLEROPHON'S  LETTERS. 

HE  whose  blind  thought  futurity  denies, 
Unconscious  bears,  Bellerophon,  like  thee 
His  own  indictment ;  he  condemns  himself. 
Who  reads  his  bosom  reads  immortal  life, 
Or  Nature  there,  imposing  on  her  sons, 
Has  written  fables  ;  man  was  made  a  lie. 

YOUNG. 


122  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

TO  A  FRIEND. 

FROM  the  dark  chambers  of  dejection  freed, 
Spurning  the  unprofitable  yoke  of  care, 
Rise,  Gillies,  rise  ;  the  gales  of  youth  shall  bear 

Thy  genius  forward  like  a  winged  steed. 

Though  bold  Bellerophon  (so  Jove  decreed 
In  wrath)  fell  headlong  from  the  fields  of  air, 
Yet  a  rich  guerdon  waits  on  minds  that  dare, 

If  aught  be  in  them  of  immortal  seed, 
And  reason  govern  that  audacious  flight 

"Which  heavenward  they  direct.     Then  droop  not 

thou, 
Erroneously  renewing  a  sad  vow 

In  the  low  dell  'mid  Roslin's  faded  grove. 

A  cheerful  life  is  what  the  Muses  love, 
A  soaring  spirit  is  their  prime  delight. 

WORDSWORTH. 


PEGASUS   IN  POUND. 

ONCE  into  a  quiet  village, 

Without  haste  and  without  heed, 
In  the  golden  prime  of  morning, 

Strayed  the  poet's  winged  steed. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     123 

It  was  autumn,  and  incessant 

Piped  the  quails  from  shocks  and  sheaves, 
And  like  living  coals  the  apples 

Burned  among  the  withering  leaves. 

Loud  the  clamorous  bell  was  ringing 

From  its  belfry  gaunt  and  grim  ; 
Twas  the  daily  call  to  labor, 

Not  a  triumph  meant  for  him. 

Not  the  less  he  saw  the  landscape, 

In  its  gleaming  vapor  veiled  ; 
Not  the  less  he  breathed  the  odors 

That  the  dying  leaves  exhaled. 

Thus  upon  the  village  common, 

By  the  school  boys  he  was  found ; 
And  the  wise  men,  in  their  wisdom, 

Put  him  straightway  into  pound. 

Then  the  sombre  village  crier, 

Kinging  loud  his  brazen  bell, 
Wandered  down  the  street,  proclaiming 

There  was  an  estray  to  sell. 


124     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And  the  curious  country  people, 
Rich  and  poor,  and  young  and  old, 

Came  in  haste  to  see  this  wondrous 
Winged  steed,  with  mane  of  gold. 

Thus  the  day  passed,  and  the  evening 
Fell  with  vapors  cold  and  dim  ; 

But  it  brought  no  food  nor  shelter, 
Brought  no  straw  nor  stall  for  him. 

Patiently,  and  still  expectant, 

Looked  he  through  the  wooden  bars, 

Saw  the  moon  rise  o'er  the  landscape, 
Saw  the  tranquil,  patient  stars, 

Till,  at  length,  the  bell  at  midnight 
Sounded  from  its  dark  abode, 

And  from  out  a  neighboring  farm  yard 
Loud  the  cock  Alectryon  crowed. 

Then  with  nostrils  wide  distended, 
Breaking  from  his  iron  chain, 

And  unfolding  far  his  pinions, 
To  those  stars  he  soared  again. 

LONGFELLOW. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  125 

IMAGINATION. 

O  FOR  that  winged  steed,  Bellerophon ! 

That  Pallas  gave  thee  in  her  infinite  grace 

And  love  for  innocence,  when  thou  didst  face 

The  treble-shaped  Chimera.    But  he's  gone 

That  struck  the  sparkling  stream  from  Helicon ; 

And  never  hath  one  risen  in  his  place 

Stamped  with  the  endowments  of  that  mighty  race. 

Yet  wherefore  grieve  I,  seeing  how  easily 

The  plumed  spirit  may  its  journey  take 

Through  yon  blue  regions  of  the  middle  air, 

And  note  all  things  below  that  own  a  grace,  — 

Mountain,  and  cataract,  and  silent  lake, 

And  wander  in  the  fields  of  poesy, 

Where  avarice  never  comes,  and  seldom  care. 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 


PEGASUS. 

I  SAW  young  Harry,  with  his  beaver  on, 
His  cuishes  on  his  thighs,  gallantly  armed, 
Rise  from  the  ground  like  feathered  Mercury, 
And  vaulted  with  such  ease  into  his  seat, 
As  if  an  angel  dropped  down  from  the  clouds, 
11* 


126     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

To  turn  and  wind  a  fiery  Pegasus, 

And  witch  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship. 

SHAKE  SPEARE. 


THE  PYGMIES. 

LIKE  that  Pygmaean  race 
Beyond  the  Indian  mount,  or  fairy  elves 
Whose  midnight  revels  by  a  forest  side, 
Or  fountain,  some  belated  peasant  sees, 
(Or  dreams  he  sees,)  while  overhead  the  moon 
Sits  arbitress,  and  nearer  to  the  earth 
Wheels  her  pale  course ;  they,  on  their  mirth  and 

dance 

Intent,  with  jocund  music  charm  his  ear. 
At  once  with  joy  and  fear  his  heart  rebounds. 


THE   GRIFFIN,  OR  GRYPHON. 

As  when  a  Gryphon  through  the  wilderness, 
With  winged  course,  o'er  hill  and  moory  dale, 
Pursues  the  Arimaspian  who  by  stealth 
Hath  from  his  wakeful  custody  purloined 
His  guarded  gold,  &c. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     127 

PYRAMUS  AND  THISBE. 

THE  moon  shines  bright ;  in  such  a  night  as  this, 
When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees, 
And  they  did  make  no  noise,  in  such  a  night, 
Did  Thisbe  fearfully  o'ertrip  the  dew, 
And  saw  the  lion's  shadow  ere  himself, 
And  ran  dismayed  away. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


DAVY'S  SAFETY  LAMP. 

O  FOR  that  Lamp's  metallic  gauze, 

That  curtain  of  protecting  wire, 
Which  Davy  delicately  draws 

Around  illicit,  dangerous  fire ! 

The  wall  he  sets  'twixt  Flame  and  Air, 

(Like  that  which  barred  young  Thisbe's  bliss,) 

Through  whose  small  holes  this  dangerous  pair 
May  see  each  other,  but  not  kiss. 

MOORE. 


128  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

CLYTIE. 

LOOK  upon  that  flower ! 

It  is  the  symbol  of  unhappy  love ; 

'Tis  sacred  to  the  slighted  Clytie. 

See  how  it  turns  its  bosom  to  the  sun, 

And  when  dark  clouds  conceal  it,  or  when  night 

Is  on  the  sky,  mark  how  it  folds  its  leaves, 

And  droops  its  head,  and  weeps  sweet  tears  of  dew,  - 

The  constant  sunflower. 

L.  E.  LANDOIT. 
•IX!' 


THE   SAME. 

I  WILL  not  have  the  mad  Clytie, 

Whose  head  is  turned  by  the  sun ; 
The  tulip  is  a  courtly  quean, 

Whom  therefore  I  will  shun ; 
The  cowslip  is  a  country  wench, 

The  violet  is  a  nun  ;  — 
But  I  will  woo  the  dainty  rose, 

The  queen  of  every  one. 

HOOD. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  129 

THE  SUNFLOWER. 

THE  heart  that  has  truly  loved  never  forgets, 

But  as  truly  loves  on  to  the  close, 
As  the  sunflower  turns  on  her  god  when  he  sets 

The  same  look  that  she  turned  when  he  rose. 

MOOEE. 

•SXi" 


BAUCIS  AND  PHILEMON. 

THE    OLD   FABLE   MODERNIZED. 

THEY  scarce  had  spoke,  when,  fair  and  soft, 
The  roof  began  to  mount  aloft ; 
Aloft  rose  every  beam  and  rafter ; 
The  heavy  wall  climbed  slowly  after. 
The  chimney  widened  and  grew  higher, 
Became  a  steeple  with  a  spire. 
The  kettle  to  the  top  was  hoist, 
And  there  stood  fastened  to  a  joist, 
But  with  the  upside  down,  to  show 
Its  inclination  for  below ; 
In  vain,  for  a  superior  force, 
Applied  at  bottom,  stops  its  course ; 
Doomed  ever  in  suspense  to  dwell,     . 
Tis  now  no  kettle,  but  a  bell. 


130     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

A  wooden  jack,  which  had  almost 

Lost  by  disuse  the  art  to  roast, 

A  sudden  alteration  feels, 

Increased  by  new  intestine  wheels ; 

And,  what  exalts  the  wonder  more, 

The  number  made  the  motion  slower ; 

The  flier,  though  't  had  leaden  feet, 

Turned  round  so  quick  you  scarce  could  see't ; 

But  slackened  by  some  secret  power, 

Now  hardly  moves  an  inch  an  hour. 

The  jack  and  chimney,  near  allied, 

Had  never  left  each  other's  side : 

The  chimney  to  a  steeple  grown, 

The  jack  would  not  be  left  alone ; 

But  up  against  the  steeple  reared, 

Became  a  clock,  and  still  adhered ; 

And  still  its  love  to  household  cares 

By  a  shrill  voice  at  noon  declares, 

"Warning  the  cook-maid  not  to  burn 

That  roast  meat  which  it  cannot  turn. 

The  groaning  chair  began  to  crawl, 

Like  a  huge  snail,  along  the  wall  ; 

There  stuck  aloft  in  public  view, 

And,  with  small  change,  a  pulpit  grew. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      131 

A  bedstead  of  the  antique  mode, 
Compact  of  timber  many  a  load, 
Such  as  our  ancestors  did  use, 
Was  metamorphosed  into  pews, 
Which  still  their  ancient  nature  keep 

By  lodging  folks  disposed  to  sleep. 

SWIFT. 


PHAETON. 

As  when  the  palsied  universe  aghast 
Lay   *     *     *     mute  and  still, 
When  drove,  so  poets  sing,  the  Sun-born  youth 
Devious  through  heaven's  affrighted  signs  his  sire's 
Ill-granted  chariot.     Him  the  Thunderer  hurled 
From  th'  empyrean  headlong  to  the  gulf 
Of  the  half-parched  Eridanus,  where  weep 
Even  now  the  sister  trees  their  amber  tears 
O'er  Phaeton  untimely  dead. 

MlLMAlf. 


THE  SUN'S  PALACE  PORCH. 

I  HAVE  sinuous  shells  of  pearly  hue 
Within,  and  things  that  lustre  have  imbibed 


132     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

In  the  sun's  palace  porch,  where,  when  unyoked, 
His  chariot  wheel  stands  midway  in  the  wave. 
Shake  one  and  it  awakens ;  then  apply 
Its  polished  lip  to  your  attentive  ear, 
And  it  remembers  its  august  abodes, 
And  murmurs  as  the  ocean  murmurs  there. 

LANDOK. 


IMPATIENCE. 

GALLOP  apace,  you  fiery-footed  steeds, 
Towards  Phoebus'  mansion ;  such  a  wagoner 
As  Phaeton  would  whip  you  to  the  west, 
And  bring  in  cloudy  night  immediately. 

SHAKESPEABE. 


GLAUCUS, 

CHANGED  INTO  A  SEA  GOD. 

I  PLUNGED  for  life  or  death.     To  interknit 
One's  senses  with  so  dense  a  breathing  stuff 
Might  seem  a  work  of  pain ;  so  not  enough 
Can  I  admire  how  crystal-smooth  it  felt, 
And  buoyant  round  my  limbs.     At  first  I  dwelt 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      133 

Whole  days  and  days  in  sheer  astonishment, 

Forgetful  utterly  of  self-intent, 

Moving  but  with  the  mighty  ebb  and  flow. 

Then,  like  a  new-fledged  bird  that  first  doth  show 

His  spreaded  feathers  to  the  morrow  chill, 

I  tried  in  fear  the  pinions  of  my  will. 

'Twas  freedom  !  and  at  once  I  visited 

The  ceaseless  wonders  of  this  ocean  bed ;  &c. 

KEATS. 


PYGMALION. 

As  once  with  prayers  in  passion  flowing, 

Pygmalion  embraced  the  stone, 
Till,  from  the  frozen  marble  glowing, 

The  light  of  feeling  o'er  him  shone, 
So  did  I  clasp  with  young  devotion 

Bright  nature  to  a  poet's  heart, 
Till  breath  and  warmth  and  vital  motion 

Seemed  through  the  statue  form  to  dart. 

And  then,  in  all  my  ardor  sharing, 
The  silent  form  expression  found ; 

Returned  my  kiss  of  youthful  daring, 
And  understood  my  heart's  quick  sound. 
12 


134     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Then  lived  for  me  the  bright  creation ; 

The  silver  rill  with  song  was  rife ; 
The  trees,  the  roses  shared  sensation, 

An  echo  of  my  boundless  life. 

8.  G.  BULFINCH. 


THE  HALCYON. 

SLEEP  is  a  god  too  proud  to  wait  in  palaces, 
And  yet  so  humble  too  as  not  to  scorn 

The  meanest  country  cottages ; 

His  poppy  grows  among  the  corn. 
The  Halcyon,  Sleep,  will  never  build  his  nest 
In  any  stormy  breast ; 

'Tis  not  enough  that  he  does  find 

Clouds  and  darkness  in  the  mind ; 

Darkness  but  half  his  work  will  do ; 
Tis  not  enough ;  he  must  find  quiet  too. 

COWLEY. 

••*%*•• 


SLEEP. 

O  MAGIC  sleep !    O  comfortable  bird, 

That  broodest  o'er  the  troubled  sea  of  the  mind 

Till  it  is  hushed  and  smooth. 

KEATS. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  135 


CHRISTMAS  EVE. 

Bur  peaceful  was  the  night 
Wherein  the  Prince  of  light 
His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began ; 
The  winds,  with  wonder  whist, 
Smoothly  the  waters  kist, 
Whispering  new  joys  to  the  mild  ocean, 
Who  now  hath  quite  forgot  to  rave, 
While  birds  of  calm  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed 
wave. 

MILTON. 


A  FLOATING  CORPSE. 

As  shaken  on  his  restless  pillow, 
His  head  heaves  with  the  heaving  billow, 
That  hand,  whose  motion  is  not  life, 
Yet  feebly  seems  to  menace  strife, 
Flung  by  the  tossing  tide  on  high, 
Then  levelled  with  the  wave 


136  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE   HOUSE   OF  SLEEP. 

HE  making  speedy  way  through  'spersed  air, 
And  through  the  world  of  waters,  wide  and  deep, 
To  Morpheus'  house  doth  hastily  repair. 
Amid  the  bowels  of  the  earth  full  steep, 
And  low,  where  dawning  day  doth  never  peep, 
His  dwelling  is ;  there  Thetis  his  wet  bed 
Doth  ever  wash,  and  Cynthia  still  doth  steep 
In  silver  dew  his  ever-drooping  head, 
Whiles  sad  Night  over  him  her  mantle  black  doth 
spread. 

Whose  double  gates  he  findeth  locked  fast, 
The  one,  fair  framed  of  burnished  ivory, 
The  other,  all  with  silver  overcast ; 
And  wakeful  dogs  before  them  far  do  lie, 
Watching  to  banish  Care,  their  enemy, 
Who  oft  is  wont  to  trouble  gentle  Sleep. 
By  them  the  sprite  doth  pass  in  quietly, 
And  unto  Morpheus  comes,  whom  drowned  deep 
In  drowsy  fits  he  finds  ;  of  nothing  he  takes  keep. 

And  more  to  lull  him  in  his  slumber  soft, 
A  trickling  stream,   from    high  rock   tumbling 
down, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     137 

And  ever  drizzling  rain  upon  the  loft, 

Mixed  with  a  murmuring  wind,  much  like  the 

soune 

Of  swarming  bees,  did  cast  him  in  a  swoon. 
No  other  noise,  nor  peoples'  troublous  cries, 
As  still  are  wont  t'  annoy  the  walled  town, 
Might  there  be  heard ;  but  careless  Quiet  lies 
Wrapped  in  eternal  silence,  far  from  enemies. 

SPENSEB. 


HERO  AND  LEANDER. 

THUS  passed  the  summer  shadows  in  delight ; 
Leander  came  as  surely  as  the  night, 
And  when  the  morning  woke  upon  the  sea, 
It  saw  him  not,  for  back  at  home  was  he. 
Sometimes,  when  it  blew  fresh,  the  struggling  flare 
Seemed  out ;  but  then  he  knew  his  Hero's  care, 
And  that  she  only  walled  it  with  her  cloak ; 
Brighter  again  from  out  the  dark  it  broke. 
Sometimes  the  night  was  almost  clear  as  day, 
Wanting  no  torch ;  and  then,  with  easy  play, 
He  dipped  along,  beneath  the  silver  moon, 
Placidly  hearkening  to  the  water's  tune. 


12  < 


138     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

But  autumn  now  was  over,  and  the  crane 
Began  to  clang  against  the  coming  rain. 
Hero  looked  out  and  trembling  augured  ill, 
The  darkness  held  its  breath  so  very  still. 
But  yet  she  hoped  he  might  arrive  before 
The  storm  began,  or  not  be  far  from  shore ; 
And  crying,  as  she  stretched  forth  in  the  air, 
"  Bless  him,"  she  turned,  and  said  a  fearful  prayer, 
And  mounted  to  the  tower,  and  shook  the  torch's 
flare. 

But  he,  Leander,  almost  half  across, 

Threw  his  blithe  locks  behind  him  with  a  toss, 

And  hailed  the  light  victoriously,  secure 

Of  clasping  his  kind  love,  so  sweet  and  sure ; 

When  suddenly  a  blast,  as  if  in  wrath, 

Sheer  from  the  hills  came  headlong  on  his  path, 

Then  started  off,  and  driving  round  the  sea, 

Dashed  up  the  panting  waters,  roaringly. 

The  youth  at  once  was  thrust  beneath  the  main, 

With  blinded  eyes,  but  quickly  rose  again, 

And  with  a  smile  at  heart,  and  stouter  pride, 

Surmounted  like  a  god  the  rearing  tide. 

But  driven  about  at  last,  and  drenched  the  while, 
The  noble  boy  loses  that  inward  smile ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      139 

For  now,  from  one  black  atmosphere,  the  rain 
Sweeps  into  stubborn  mixture  with  the  main ; 
And  the  brute  wind,  unmuffling  all  its  roar, 
Storms ;  and  the  light,  gone  out,  is  seen  no  more. 

Then  dreadful  thoughts  of  death,  of  waves  heaped 

on  him, 

And  friends,  and  parting  daylight  rush  upon  him. 
He  thinks  of  prayers  to  Neptune  and  his  daughters, 
And  Venus,  Hero's  queen,  sprung  from  the  waters ; 
And  then  of  Hero  only,  —  how  she  fares, 
And  what  she'll  feel  when  the  blank  morn  appears ; 
And  at  that  thought  he  stiffens  once  again 
His  limbs,  and  pants,  and  strains,  and  climbs,  —  in 

vain. 

Fierce  draughts  he  swallows  of  the  wilful  wave, 
His  tossing  hands  are  lax,  his  blind  look  grave, 
Till  the  poor  youth  (and  yet  no  coward  he) 
Spoke  once  her  name,  and  yielding  wearily, 
Wept  in  the  middle  of  the  scornful  sea. 

I  need  not  tell  how  Hero,  when  her  light 
Would  burn  no  longer,  passed  that  dreadful  night ; 
How  she  exclaimed,  and  wept,  and  could  not  sit 
One  instant  in  one  place,  nor  how  she  lit 


140     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

The  torch  a  hundred  times,  and  when  she  found 
'Twas  all  in  vain,  her  gentle  head  turned  round 
Almost  with  rage  ;  and  in  her  fond  despair, 
She  tried  to  call  him  through  the  deafening  air. 

? 

But  when  he  came  not,  —  when  from  hour  to  hour, 

He  came  not,  though  the  storm  had  spent  its  power, 
And  when  the  casement,  at  the  dawn  of  light, 
Began  to  show  a  square  of  ghastly  white,  — 
She  went  up  to  the  tower,  and  straining  out 
To  search  the  seas,  downwards,  and  round  about, 
She  saw  at  last,  —  she  saw  her  lord  indeed, 
Floating,  and  washed  about,  like  a  vile  weed ; 
On  which  such  strength  of  passion  and  dismay 
Seized  her,  and  such  an  impotence  to  stay, 
That  from  the  turret,  like  a  stricken  dove, 
With  fluttering  arms  she  leaped,  and  joined  her 
drowned  love. 

LEIGH  HUNT. 
••CXI*' 


HERO  AND  LEANDER. 

THE  winds  are  high  on  Helle's  wave, 

As  on  that  night  of  stormiest  water, 
When  Love,  who  sent,  forgot  to  save 
The  young,  the  beautiful,  the  brave, 
The  lonely  hope  of  Sestos'  daughter. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     141 

O,  when  alone  along  the  sky 

The  turret  torch  was  blazing  high, 

Though  rising  gale,  and  breaking  foam, 

And  shrieking  sea  birds  warned  him  home, 

And  clouds  aloft  and  tides  below, 

With  signs  and  sounds  forbade  to  go, 

He  could  not  see,  he  would  not  hear 

Or  sound  or  sight  foreboding  fear. 

His  eye  but  saw  that  light  of  love, 

The  only  star  it  hailed  above ; 

His  ear  but  rang  with  Hero's  song, 

"  Ye  waves,  divide  not  lovers  long." 

That  tale  is  old,  but  love  anew 

May  nerve  young  hearts  to  prove  as  true. 


SAPPHO. 

CHILDE  HAROLD  sailed,  and  passed  the  barren  spot, 
Where  sad  Penelope  o'erlooked  the  wave, 

And  onward  viewed  the  mount,  not  yet  forgot, 
The  lover's  refuge  and  the  Lesbian's  grave. 
Dark  Sappho  !  could  not  verse  immortal  save 

That  breast  imbued  with  such  immortal  fire  ? 

BYRON. 


142  POETRY  OF   THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE   GRECIAN  MAIDENS  REMEMBER 
SAPPHO. 

WHEN  evening  came,  around  the  well 
They  sate,  beneath  the  rising  moon, 
And  some,  with  voice  of  awe  could  tell 
Of  midnight  fays  and  nymphs  who  dwell 

In  holy  fountains ;  some  would  tune 
Their  lutes  to  sounds  of  softest  close, 
To  tell  of  Sappho's  love  and  woes. 

Among  these  maidens  there  was  one 
Who  to  Leucadia  late  had  been,  — 
Had  stood  beneath  the  evening  sun 

On  its  white,  towering  cliffs,  and  seen 
The  very  spot  where  Sappho  sung 
Her  swanlike  music,  ere  she  sprung 
(Still  holding  in  that  fearful  leap 
By  her  loved  lyre)  into  the  deep ; 
And  dying  quenched  the  fatal  fire, 
At  once,  of  both  her  heart  and  lyre. 
Mutely  they  listened  all ;  and  well 
Did  the  young  travelled  maiden  tell 
Of  the  dread  height  to  which  that  steep 
Beetles  above  the  eddying  deep ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     143 

Of  the  lone  sea  birds,  wheeling  round 
The  dizzy  edge  with  mournful  sound  5 
And  of  the  scented  lilies,  (some 

Of  whose  white  flowers,  the  damsel  said, 
Herself  had  gathered,  and  brought  home 

In  memory  of  the  minstrel  maid,) 
Still  blooming  on  that  fearful  place. 

MOORE. 
••iSC!" 


SAPPHO. 

FROM  A   GEM. 

LOOK  on  this  brow !     The  laurel  wreath 
Beamed  on  it  like  a  wreath  of  fire  ; 

For  passion  gave  the  living  breath 

That  shook  the  chords  of  Sappho's  lyre. 

Look  on  this  brow !     The  lowest  slave, 
The  veriest  wretch  of  want  and  care, 

Might  shudder  at  the  lot  that  gave 
Her  genius,  glory,  and  despair. 

For  from  these  lips  were  uttered  sighs 

That,  more  than  fever,  scorched  the  frame ; 

And  tears  were  rained  from  these  bright  eyes, 
That  from  the  heart,  like  life-blood,  came. 


144     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

She  loved,  —  she  felt  the  lightning  gleam 
That  keenest  strikes  the  loftiest  mind,  — 

Life  quenched  in  one  ecstatic  dream, 
The  world  a  waste,  before,  behind. 

And  she  had  hope  —  the  treacherous  hope, 
The  last,  deep  poison  of  the  bowl, 

That  makes  us  drain  it,  drop  by  drop, 
Nor  lose  one  misery  of  soul. 

Then  all  gave  way  —  mind,  passion,  pride  ; 

She  cast  one  weeping  glance  above, 
Then  buried  in  her  bed,  the  tide, 

The  whole  concentred  strife  of  love. 

CBOLY. 

•  •tail" 


SPECIMEN  OF  SAPPHO'S  POETRY. 

THE   ROSE. 

DID  Jove  a  queen  of  flowers  decree, 
The  rose  the  queen  of  flowers  should  be. 

Of  flowers  the  eye ;  of  plants  the  gem ; 

The  meadow's  blush ;  earth's  diadem ; 

Glory  of  colors  on  the  gaze 

Lightening  in  its  beauty's  blaze ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      145 

It  breathes  of  love ;  it  blooms  the  guest 
Of  Venus'  ever-fragrant  breast ; 
In  gaudy  pomp  its  petals  spread ; 
Light  foliage  trembles  round  its  head ; 
With  vermeil  blossoms  fresh  and  fair 
It  laughs  to  the  voluptuous  air. 

ELTON'S  SPECIMENS. 


THE   ARGONAUTIC  EXPEDITION. 

FROM  every  region  of  ^Egea's  shore 
The  brave  assembled ;  those  illustrious  twins 
Castor  and  Pollux ;  Orpheus,  tuneful  bard  ; 
Zetes  and  Calais,  as  the  wind  in  speed ; 
Strong  Hercules,  and  many  a  chief  renowned. 
On  deep  lolcos'  sandy  shore  they  thronged, 
Gleaming  in  armor,  ardent  of  exploits  ; 
And  soon,  the  laurel  cord  and  the  huge  stone 
Uplifting  to  the  deck,  unmoored  the  bark  j 
Whose  keel,  of  wondrous  length,  the  skilful  hand 
Of  Argus  fashioned  for  the  proud  attempt ; 
And  in  the  extended  keel  a  lofty  mast 
Upraised,  and  sails  full  swelling  —  to  the  chiefs 
Unwonted  objects.    Now  first,  now  they  learned 
Their  bolder  steerage  over  ocean  wave, 
13 


146     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Led  by  the  golden  stars,  as  Chiron's  art 
Had  marked  the  sphere  celestial ;  &c. 


THE   SAME. 

So  when  the  first  bold  vessel  dared  the  seas, 

High  on  the  stern  the  Thracian  raised  his  strain, 
"While  Argo  saw  her  kindred  trees 
Descend  from  Pelion  to  the  main. 
Transported  demigods  stood  round, 
And  men  grew  heroes  at  the  sound. 

POPE. 


JESON  RESTORED  TO   YOUTH  BY  MEDEA. 

ON  the  loud  shore  a  magic  pile  she  raised, 
The  caldron  bubbled,  and  the  fagots  blazed ; 
Pleased  on  the  boiling  wave  old  ^Eson  swims, 
And  feels  fresh  vigor  stretch  his  swelling  limbs ; 
The  meagre  paleness  from  his  features  fled, 
His  tingling  cheeks  assume  a  glowing  red, 
Through  his  thrilled  nerves  forgotten  ardors  dart, 
And  warmer  life-blood  circles  round  his  heart ; 
With  softer  fires  his  kindling  eyeballs  glow, 
And  darker  tresses  wanton  round  his  brow. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  147 

THE  CONTEST  OF  THE  GODDESSES. 

[The  nymph  (Enone,  the  wife  of  Paris,  describes  the  scene,  of 
which  she  was  a  concealed  witness.] 

IT  was  the  deep  midnoon ;  one  silvery  cloud 

Had  lost  his  way  between  the  piny  sides 

Of  this  long  glen.     Then  to  the  bower  they  came, 

Naked  they  came,  to  that  smooth  swarded  bower, 

And  at  their  feet  the  crocus  brake  like  fire, 

Violet,  amaracus,  and  asphodel, 

Lotos,  and  lilies ;  and  a  wind  arose, 

And  overhead  the  wandering  ivy  and  vine, 

This  way  and  that,  in  many  a  wild  festoon, 

Ran  liot,  garlanding  the  gnarled  boughs 

With  bunch  and  berry  and  flower  through  and 

through. 

On  the  tree  tops  a  crested  peacock  lit, 
And  o'er  him  flowed  a  golden  cloud,  and  leaned 
Upon  him,  slowly  dropping  fragrant  dew. 
Then  first  I  heard  the  voice  of  her,  to  whom, 
Coming  through  heaven,  with  one  mind  the  gods 
Rise  up  for  reverence.     She  to  Paris  made 
Proffer  of  royal  power,  ample  rule 
Unquestioned,  overflowing  revenue 


148      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Wherewith  to  embellish  state,  "  from  many  a  vale 
And  river-sundered  champaign,  clothed  with  corn, 
Or  labored  mines,  undrainable  of  ore. 
Honor,"  she  said,  "  and  homage,  tax  and  toll, 
From  many  an  inland  town  and  haven  large, 
Mast-thronged,  beneath  her  shadowing  citadel, 
In  glassy  bays,  among  her  tallest  towers." 

She  ceased,  and  Paris  held  the  costly  fruit 
Out  at  arm's  length,  so  much  the  thought  of  power 
Flattered  his  spirit;  but  Pallas,  where  she  stood 
Somewhat  apart,  her  clear  and  bared  limbs 
O'erthwarted  with  the  brazen-headed  spear, 
Upon  her  pearly  shoulder  leaning  cold, 
The  while,  above,  her  full  and  earnest  eye 
Over  her  snow-cold  breast  and  angry  cheek 
Kept  watch,  waiting  decision,  made  reply : 
"  Self-reverence,  self-knowledge,  self-control, 
These  three  alone  lead  life  to  sovereign  power. 
Yet  not  for  power,  (power  of  herself 
Would  come  uncalled  for,)  but  to  live  by  law, 
Acting  the  law  we  live  by  without  fear ; 
And  because  right  is  right,  to  follow  right 
Were  wisdom  in  the  scorn  of  consequence." 

Again  she  said,  "  I  woo  thee  not  with  gifts. 
Sequel  of  guerdon  could  not  alter  one 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     149 

To  fairer.     Judge  thou  me  by  what  I  am, 
So  shalt  thou  find  me  fairest." 

Here  she  ceased ; 

And  Paris  pondered,  and  I  cried,  "  O  Paris, 
Give  it  to  Pallas  !  "  but  he  heard  me  not, 
Or  hearing  would  not  hear  me,  woe  is  me ! 

Idalian  Aphrodite,  beautiful, 
Fresh  as  the  foam,  new  bathed  in  Paphian  wells, 
With  rosy  slender  fingers  backward  drew 
From  her  warm  brows  and  bosom  her  deep  hair 
Ambrosial,  golden  round  her  lucid  throat 
And  shoulder ;  from  the  violets  her  light  foot 
Shone  rosy  white,  and  o'er  her  rounded  form 
Between  the  shadows  of  the  vine  bunches 
Floated  the  glowing  sunlights,  as  she  moved. 

She  with  a  subtle  smile  in  her  mild  eyes, 
The  herald  of  her  triumph,  drawing  nigh, 
Half  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  I  promise  thee 
The  fairest  and  most  loving  wife  in  Greece." 
She  spoke  and  laughed ;  I  shut  my  sight  for  fear ; 
But  when  I  looked,  Paris  had  raised  his  arm, 
And  I  beheld  great  Here's  angry  eyes, 
As  she  withdrew  into  the  golden  cloud. 

TENNYSON. 
13* 


150     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 
HELEN. 

HELEN  AND  THE  TROJAN  SAGES. 

O'ER-MANTLED  with  a  snowy  veil 
Helen  went  forth,  and  as  she  went  let  fall 
A  tender  tear. 

There  sat  the  Trojan  leaders  on  the  tower, 
Who,  soon  as  Helen  on  the  steps  they  saw, 
In  accents  quick,  but  whispered,  thus  remarked : 
"  Trojans  and  Grecians  wage,  with  fair  excuse, 
Long  war  for  so  much  beauty.     O,  how  like 
In  feature  to  the  goddesses  above ! 
Pernicious  loveliness !    Ah !  hence,  away, 
Resistless  as  thou  art,  and  all  divine, 
Nor  leave  a  curse  to  us  and  to  our  sons." 

COWPER'S  HOMER. 

[Helen  thus  speaks  of  Hector's  deportment  to  her.] 

"  IF  some  proud  brother  eyed  me  with  disdain, 
Or  scornful  sister,  with  her  sweeping  train, 
Thy  gentle  accents  softened  all  my  pain ; 
Nor  was  it  e'er  my  fate  from  thee  to  find 
A  deed  ungentle,  or  a  word  unkind. 

POPE'S  HOMER. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  151 

NEPENTHE. 

NOT  that  Nepenthes,  which  the  wife  of  Thone 
In  Egypt  gave  to  Jove-born  Helena, 
Is  of  such  power  to  stir  up  joy  as  this, 
To  life  so  friendly,  or  so  cool  to  thirst. 

MILTON. 
•IKI" 


A  DREAM  OF  FAIR  WOMEN. 

HELEN  AND  IPHIGENIA. 

METHOUGHT  that  I  had  wandered  far 

In  an  old  wood ;  fresh  washed  in  coolest  dew, 
The  maiden  splendors  of  the  morning  star 
Shook  in  the  steadfast  blue. 

At  length  I  saw  a  lady  within  call, 

Stiller  than  chiselled  marble,  standing  there ; 
A  daughter  of  the  gods,  divinely  tall, 
And  most  divinely  fair. 

Her  loveliness  with  shame  and  with  surprise 

Froze  my  swift  speech  ;  she  turning  on  my  face 
The  star-like  sorrows  of  immortal  eyes, 
Spoke  slowly  in  her  place. 


152      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

"  I  had  great  beauty ;  ask  not  thou  my  name ; 

No  one  can  be  more  wise  than  destiny. 
Many  drew  swords  and  died.     Where'er  I  came 
I  brought  calamity." 

"  No  marvel,  sovereign  lady !  in  fair  field 

Myself  for  such  a  face  had  boldly  died," 
I  answered  free,  and  turning  I  appealed 
To  one  that  stood  beside. 


IPHIGENIA. 

BUT  she,  with  sick  and  scornful  looks  averse, 

To  her  full  height  her  stately  stature  draws. 
"  My  youth,"  she  said,  "  was  blasted  with  a  curse ; 
This  woman  was  the  cause. 

"  I  was  cut  off  from  hope  in  that  sad  place, 

Which  yet  to  name  my  spirit  loathes  and  fears ; 
My  father  held  his  hand  upon  his  face ; 
I,  blinded  by  my  tears, 

"Still  strove  to  speak;    my  voice  was  thick  with 

sighs, 
As  in  a  dream.     Dimly  I  could  descry 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      153 

The  stern  black-bearded  kings  with  wolfish  eyes, 
Waiting  to  see  me  die. 

"  The  tall  masts  wavered  as  they  lay  afloat, 

The  temples  and  the  people  and  the  shore ; 
The  bright  death  quivered  at  the  victim's  throat, 
Touched,  —  and  I  knew  no  more." 

TENNYSON. 


LAODAMIA  AND  PROTESILAUS. 

[Protesilaus  relates  to  Laodamia  the  story  of  his  fate.] 

"  THE  wished-for  wind  was  given  ;  I  then  revolved 

The  oracle,  upon  the  silent  sea  ,• 
And,  if  no  worthier  led  the  way,  resolved 

That  of  a  thousand  vessels  mine  should  be 
The  foremost  prow  in  pressing  to  the  strand,  — 
Mine  the  first  blood  that  tinged  the  Trojan  sand. 

"  Yet  bitter,  ofttimes  bitter  was  the  pang 
When  of  thy  loss  I  thought,  beloved  wife ! 

On  thee  too  fondly  did  my  memory  hang, 
And  on  the  joys  we  shared  in  mortal  life, 

The  paths  which  we  had  trod,  —  these  fountains, 
flowers ; 

My  new  planned  cities  and  unfinished  towers. 


154     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

"  But  should  suspense  permit  the  foe  to  cry 
*  Behold  they  tremble  !  haughty  their  array, 

Yet  of  their  number  no  one  dares  to  die  ? ' 
In  soul  I  swept  the  indignity  away : 

Old  frailties  then  recurred  ;  but  lofty  thought 

In  act  imbodied  my  deliverance  wrought." 
*          *          *          *          * 

Upon  the  side 
Of  Hellespont  (such  faith  was  entertained) 

A  knot  of  spiry  trees  for  ages  grew 

From  out  the  tomb  of  him  for  whom  she  died ; 
And  ever  when  such  stature  they  had  gained 

That  Ilium's  walls  were  subject  to  their  view, 
The  trees'  tall  summits  withered  at  the  sight, 
A  constant  interchange  of  growth  and  blight ! 

"WOBDSWOBTH. 


THE   PRAYER  OF  AJAX. 

FATHER  of  heaven  and  earth !  deliver  thou 
Achaia's  host  from  darkness  ;  clear  the  sides ; 
Give  day  ;  and,  since  thy  sovereign  will  is  such, 
Destruction  with  it ;  but,  O,  give  us  day. 

COWPEB'S  HOMES. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  155 


ANOTHER  VERSION  OF  THE  SAME. 

LORD  of  earth  and  air ! 
O  king !.  O  father !  hear  my  humble  prayer ! 
Dispel  this  cloud,  the  light  of  heaven  restore ; 
Give  me  to  see,  and  Ajax  asks  no  more  ; 
If  Greece  must  perish  we  thy  will  obey, 
But  let  us  perish  in  the  face  of  day. 

POPE'S  HOMER. 


AJAX. 

THE  prayer  of  Ajax  was  for  light ; 
Through  all  that  dark  and  desperate  fight, 
The  blackness  of  the  noonday  night, 
He  asked  but  the  return  of  sight, 
To  see  his  foeman's  face. 

Let  our  unceasing,  earnest  prayer 
Be,  too,  for  light, — for  strength  to  bear 
Our  portion  of  the  weight  of  care, 
That  crushes  into  dumb  despair 
One  half  the  human  race. 

LONGFELLOW. 


156  POETRY   OF   THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

PHILOCTETES. 

WHEN  Philoctetes,  in  the  Lemnian  isle, 
Like  a  form  sculptured  on  a  monument, 
Lay  couched,  on  him  or  his  dread  bow  unbent 

Some  wild  bird  oft  might  settle,  and  beguile 

The  rigid  features  of  a  transient  smile, 
Disperse  the  tear,  or  to  the  sigh  give  vent, 
Slackening  the  pains  of  ruthless  banishment 

From  his  loved  home,  and  from  heroic  toil. 

And  trust  that  spiritual  creatures  round  us  move, 

Griefs  to  allay  which  reason  cannot  heal ; 
Yea,  veriest  reptiles  have  sufficed  to  prove 

To  fettered  wretchedness,  that  no  Bastile 
Is  deep  enough  to  exclude  the  light  of  love, 

Though  man  for  brother  man  has  ceased  to  feel. 

WORDSWORTH. 
••*%!" 


MEMNON. 

So  to  the  sacred  sun  in  Memnon's  fane 
Spontaneous  concords  choired  the  matin  strain ; 
Touched  by  his  orient  beam  responsive  rings 
The  living  lyre  and  vibrates  all  its  strings ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      157 

Accordant  aisles  the  tender  tones  prolong, 
And  holy  echoes  swell  the  adoring  song. 


THE  PLEASURES   OF  IMAGINATION. 

WITH  what  attractive  charms  this  goodly  frame 

Of  Nature  touches  the  consenting  hearts 

Of  mortal  men  !  and  what  the  pleasing  stores 

Which  beauteous  imitation  thence  derives 

To  deck  the  poet's  or  the  painter's  toil, 

My  verse  unfolds.     *         *         * 

But  not  alike  to  every  mortal  eye 

In  this  great  scene  unveiled.     For  since  the  claims 

Of  social  life  to  different  labors  urge 

The  active  powers  of  man,  with  wise  intent 

The  hand  of  Nature  on  peculiar  minds 

Imprints  a  different  bias,  and  to  each 

Decrees  its  province  in  the  common  toil. 

For  as  old  Memnon's  image,  long  renowned   • 
By  fabling  Nilus,  to  the  quivering  touch 
Of  Titan's  ray,  with  each  repulsive  string 
Consenting,  sounded  through  the  warbling  air 
14 


158      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Unbidden  strains,  even  so  did  Nature's  hand 
To  certain  species  of  external  things 
Attune  the  finer  organs  of  the  mind. 


INFLUENCES   OF   SPRING. 

LESSONS  sweet  of  spring  returning, 

Welcome  to  the  thoughtful  heart ! 
May  I  call  ye  sense  or  learning, 

Instinct  pure,  or  heaven-taught  art  ? 
Be  your  title  what  it  may, 
Sweet  and  lengthening  April  day, 
While  with  you  the  soul  is  free, 
Ranging  wild  o'er  hill  and  lea. 

Soft  as  Memnon's  harp  at  morning, 

To  the  inward  eye  devout, 
Touched  by  light  with  heavenly  warning, 

Your  transporting  chords  ring  out. 
Every  leaf  in  every  nook, 
Every  wave  in  every  brook, 
Chanting  with  a  solemn  voice, 
'Minds  us  of  our  better  choice. 

KEBLE. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  159 

LAOCOON. 

Now  turning  to  the  Vatican,  go  see 
Laocob'n's  torture  dignifying  pain  ; 
A  father's  love  and  mortal's  agony 
With  an  immortal's  patience  blending ;  —  vain 
The  struggle  !  vain  against  the  coiling  strain 
And  gripe  and  deepening  of  the  dragon's  grasp 
The  old  man's  clinch  !  the  long-envenomed  chain 
Rivets  the  living  links  ;  the  enormous  asp 
Enforces  pang  on  pang  and  stifles  gasp  on  gasp. 

BYRON. 
• « I  3fr*~— 

DESCRIPTION  OF  A  CITY  SHOWER. 

BOXED  in  a  chair  the  beau  impatient  sits, 
While  spouts  run  clattering  o'er  the  roof  by  fits, 
And  ever  and  anon  with  frightful  din 
The  leather  sounds  ;  he  trembles  from  within. 
So  when  Troy  chairmen  bore  the  wooden  steed 
Pregnant  with  Greeks  impatient  to  be  freed, 
(Those  bully  Greeks,  who,  as  the  moderns  do, 
Instead  of  paying  chairmen,  run  them  through,) 
Laocobn  struck  the  outside  with  a  spear, 
And  each  imprisoned  champion  quaked  with  fear. 

SWIFT. 


160  POETRY  OF   THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

PALINURUS. 

O  THINK  how,  to  his  latest  day, 

When  death  just  hovering  claimed  his  prey, 

With  Palinure's  unaltered  mood, 

Firm  at  his  dangerous  post  he  stood,* 

Each  call  for  needful  rest  repelled, 

With  dying  hand  the  rudder  held, 

Till  in  his  fall,  with  fateful  sway, 

The  steerage  of  the  realm  gave  way. 

W.  SCOTT. 


TROY. 

THE  winds  are  high,  and  Helle's  tide 
Kolls  darkly  heaving  to  the  main, 
And  night's  descending  shadows  hide 

That  field  with  blood  bedewed  in  vain, 
The  desert  of  old  Priam's  pride, 

The  tombs,  sole  relics  of  his  reign  — 
All,  save  immortal  dreams,  that  could  beguile 
The  blind  old  man  of  Scio's  rocky  isle. 

BYRON. 
*  The  poet  speaks  of  the  prime  minister  William  Pitt. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     161 

THE  LOTUS  EATERS. 

How  sweet  it  were,  hearing  the  downward  stream 

With  half-shut  eyes  ever  to  seem 

Falling  asleep  in  a  half  dream  ! 

To  dream,  and  dream,  like  yonder  amber  light, 

Which   will   not   leave   the   myrrh   bush   on   the 

height ; 
To  hear  each  other's  whispered  speech  ; 

Eating  the  Lotos,  day  by  day, 
To  watch  the  crisping  ripples  on  the  beach, 

And  tender  curving  lines  of  creamy  spray ; 
To  lend  our  hearts  and  spirits  wholly 
To  the  influence  of  mild-minded  melancholy ; 
To  muse  and  brood  and  live  again  in  memory, 
With  those  old  faces  of  our  infancy 
Heaped  over  with  a  mound  of  grass, 
Two  handfuls  of  white   dust,  shut  in   an  urn  of 
brass. 

The  Lotus  blooms  below  the  flowery  peak ; 

The  Lotus  blows  by  every  winding  creek  ; 
All  day  the   wind  breathes   low,   with    mellower 

tone; 

Through  ever}*  hollow  cave  and  alley  lone, 
14* 


162     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Round  and  round  the  spicy  downs  the  yellow  Lotus 

dust  is  blown. 

We  have  had  enough  of  action  and  of  motion  we, 
Rolled  to  starboard,  rolled  to  larboard,  when  the 

surge  was  seething  free, 
Where  the  wallowing  monster  spouted  his  foam 

fountains  in  the  sea. 
Let  us  swear  an  oath,  and  keep  it  with  an  equal 

mind, 

In  the  hollow  Lotus  land  to  live  and  lie  reclined 
On  the  hills  like  gods  together,,careless  of  mankind ; 
For  they  lie  beside  their  nectar,  and  the  bolts  are 

hurled 
Far  below  them  in  the  valleys,  and  the  clouds  are 

lightly  curled 

Round  their  golden  houses,  girdled  with  the  gleam- 
ing world. 
Surely,  surely,  slumber  is  more  sweet  than  toil ;  the 

shore 
Than  labor  in  the  deep  mid  ocean,  wind  and  wave 

and  oar ; 
O,  rest  ye,  brother  mariners ;  we  will  not  wander 

more. 

TENNYSON. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  163 

CIRCE. 

WHO  knows  not  Circe, 

The  daughter  of  the  Sun,  whose  charmed  cup 
Whoever  tasted  lost  his  upright  shape, 
And  downward  fell  into  a  grovelling  swine  ? 

MILTON. 


A  VICTIM  OF  CIRCE'S  ART. 

[A  monarch  in  the  guise  of  an  elephant,  implores  her  com- 
passion.] 

I  SUE  not  for  my  happy  crown  again ; 

I  sue  not  for  my  phalanx  on  the  plain ; 

I  sue  not  for  my  lone,  my  widowed  wife ; 

I  sue  not  for  my  ruddy  drops  of  life,  — 

My  children  fair,  my  lovely  girls  and  boys ; 

I  will  forget  them ;  I  will  pass  these  joys, 

Ask  nought  so  heavenward ;  so  too  —  too  high ; 

Only  I  pray,  as  fairest  boon,  to  die  ; 

To  be  delivered  from  this  cumbrous  flesh, 

From  this  gross,  detestable,  filthy  mesh, 

And  merely  given  to  the  cold,  bleak  air. 

Have  mercy,  goddess  !  Circe,  feel  my  prayer ! 

KEATS. 


164      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

CIRCE,  THE  SIRENS,   SCYLLA,  AND 
CHARYBDIS. 

I  HAVE  often  heard 

My  mother  Circe  and  the  Sirens  three, 
Amidst  the  flowery-kirtled  Naiades, 
Culling  their  potent  herbs  and  baleful  drugs, 
Who  as  they  sung  would  take  the  prisoned  soul 
And  lap  it  in  Elysium.     Scylla  wept, 
And  chid  her  barking  waves  into  attention, 

And  fell  Charybdis  murmured  soft  applause. 

MILTON. 

"I8EI" 


CALYPSO'S   GROT. 

A  GARDEN  vine,  luxuriant  on  all  sides, 
Mantled  the  spacious  cavern,  cluster-hung 
Profuse ;  four  fountains  of  serenest  lymph, 
Their  sinuous  course  pursuing  side  by  side, 
Strayed  all  around,  and  every  where  appeared 
Meadows  of  softest  verdure,  purpled  o'er 
With  violets  ;  it  was  a  scene  to  fill 
A  god  from  heaven  with  wonder  and  delight. 

COWPER'S  HOMER. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      16o 

TELEMACHUS  AND  MENTOR. 

BUT  not  in  silence  pass  Calypso's  isles, 
The  sister  tenants  of  the  middle  deep ; 
There  for  the  weary  still  a  haven  smiles, 
Though  the  fair  goddess  long  has  ceased  to  weep, 
And  o'er  her  cliffs  a  fruitless  watch  to  keep 
For  him  who  dared  prefer  a  mortal  bride. 
Here  too  his  boy  essayed  the  dreadful  leap, 
Stern  Mentor  urged  from  high  to  yonder  tide ; 
While  thus  of  both  bereft  the  nymph  queen  doubly 
sighed. 


ULYSSES  AND  THE   SIREN. 

Siren. 
COME,  worthy  Greek,  Ulysses,  come, 

Possess  these  shores  with  me ; 
The  winds  and  seas  are  troublesome, 

And  here  we  may  be  free. 
Here  may  we  sit,  and  view  their  toil 

That  travail  in  the  deep, 
Enjoy  the  day  in  mirth  the  while, 

And  spend  the  night  in  sleep. 


166      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Ulysses. 
Fair  nymph,  if  fame  or  honor  were 

To  be  attained  with  ease, 
Then  would  I  come  and  rest  with  thee, 

And  leave  such  toils  as  these  : 
But  here  it  dwells,  and  here  must  I 

With  danger  seek  it  forth ; 
To  spend  the  time  luxuriously 

Becomes  not  men  of  worth. 

Siren. 
Ulysses,  O,  be  not  deceived 

With  that  unreal  name  ; 
This  honor  is  a  thing  conceived, 

And  rests  on  others'  fame  ; 
Begotten  only  to  molest 

Our  peace,  and  to  beguile 
The  best  thing  of  our  life,  our  rest, 

And  give  us  up  to  toil. 

Ulysses. 
Delicious  nymph,  suppose  there  were 

No  honor,  nor  report, 
Yet  manliness  would  scorn  to  wear 

The  time  in  idle  sport ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      167 

For  toil  doth  give  a  better  touch 

To  make  us  feel  our  joy ; 
And  ease  finds  tediousness,  as  much 

As  labor  yields  annoy. 

Siren. 
Then  pleasure  likewise  seems  the  shore 

Whereto  tends  all  your  toil ; 
Which  you  forego  to  make  it  more, 

And  perish  oft  the  while. 
Who  may  disport  them  diversely 

Find  never  tedious  day ; 
And  ease  may  have  variety, 

As  well  as  action  may. 

Ulysses. 
But  natures  of  the  noblest  frame 

These  toils  and  dangers  please ; 
And  they  take  comfort  in  the  same, 

As  much  as  you  in  ease, 
And  wit!  the  thought  of  actions  past 

Are  recreated  still ; 
When  pleasure  leaves  a  touch  at  last 

To  show  that  it  was  ill. 

Siren. 

That  doth  opinion  only  cause 
That's  out  of  custom  bred ; 


168  *   POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Which  makes  us  many  other  laws 
Than  ever  nature  did.  , 

No  widows  wail  for  our  delights, 
Our  sports  are  without  blood ; 

The  world  we  see  by  warlike  wights 
Receives  more  hurt  than  good. 

Ulysses. 

But  yet  the  state  of  things  require 

These  motions  of  unrest ; 
And  these  great  spirits  of  high  desire 

Seem  born  to  turn  them  best ; 
To  purge  the  mischiefs  that  increase 

And  all  good  order  mar  j 
For  oft  we  see  a  wicked  peace 

To  be  well  changed  for  war. 

Siren* 
Well,  well,  Ulysses,  then  I  see 

I  shall  not  have  thee  here  ; 
And  therefore  I  will  come  to  thee, 

And  take  my  fortune  there. 

*  The  meaning  of  this  verse  seems  to  be  that  he  who  will 
not  yield  to  false  pleasure  shall  win  the  true  pleasure.  The  au- 
thor of  these  verses  was  Samuel  Daniel,  a  contemporary  of  Spen- 
ser. The  lines  have  something  of  the  roughness  characteristic 
of  the  old  poets,  yet  less  than  was  usual  at  his  day. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     169 

I  must  be  won  that  cannot  win, 

Yet  lost  were  I  not  won ; 
For  beauty  hath  created  been 

T'  undo  or  be  undone. 


INVOCATION. 

BY  Thetis'  tinsel-slippered  feet, 
And  the  songs  of  Sirens  sweet ; 
By  dead  Parthenope's  dear  tomb, 
And  fair  Ligea's  golden  comb, 
Wherewith  she  sits  on  diamond  rocks 
Sleeking  her  soft  alluring  locks  ;  &c. 

COMUS. 


THE   SIRENS  IN  THE   SKIES. 

[Later  writers  represent  the  Sirens  as  presiding  over  the  mu- 
sic of  the  spheres.  In  Milton's  Arcades  they  soothe  the  Fates 
with  their  song.] 

IN  the  deep  of  night,  when  drowsiness 
Hath  locked  up  mortal  sense,  then  listen  I 
To  the  celestial  Sirens'  harmony, 
15 


170     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

That  sit  upon  the  nine  infolded  spheres, 
And  sing  to  those  that  hold  the  vital  shears, 
And  turn  the  adamantine  spindle  round, 
On  which  the  fate  of  gods  and  men  is  wound. 

MILTON. 


THE  MERMAID. 

O'ER  her  fair  brow  her  pearly  comb  unfurls 
Her  amber  locks,  and  parts  the  waving  curls ; 
Each  tangled  braid  with  glistening  teeth  unbinds, 
And  with  the  floating  treasure  musks  the  winds. 
Thrilled  by  her  dulcet  accents  as  she  sings, 
The  rippling  wave  in  widening  circles  rings. 
"  O  haste ! "  she  carols,  "  o'er  the  glassy  sea, 
Visit  the  billows'  sea-green  depths  with  me ; 
Behold  what  treasures  dwell  beneath  the  waves, 
Dim  seen,  pale  glistening   through   their  shadowy 

caves ; 

Where  lurk  the  pearls,  where  coral  sea-flowers  grow, 
And  all  the  wonders  of  the  world  below." 

APOLLONIUS  RHODIUS. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE   OF  FABLE.  171 


SCENE  FROM  THE   CYCLOPS, 

A  SATIRIC   DRAMA,   TRANSLATED   FROM   THE   GREEK  OF 
EURIPIDES. 

Persons.  —  The  CYCLOPS,  ULYSSES,  CHORUS. 

Cyclops. 

AH,  me !  indeed,  what  woe  has  fallen  upon  me ! 
But  wretched  nothings !  think  ye  not  to  flee 


172     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Out  of  this  rock ;  I,  standing  at  the  outlet, 
Will  bar  the  way,  and  catch  you  as  you  pass, 

Chorus. 
"What  are  you  roaring  out,  Cyclops  ? 

Cyclops. 

I  perish ! 

Chorus. 
What !  did  you  fall  into  the  fire  when  drunk  ? 

Cyclops. 
Twas  Nobody  destroyed  me. 

Chorus. 

Why,  then  no  one 
Can  be  to  blame. 

Cyclops. 

I  say  'twas  Nobody 
Who  blinded  me. 

Chorus. 
Why,  then  you  are  not  blind. 

Cyclops. 
I  wish  you  were  as  blind  as  I  am. 

Chorus. 

Nay, 

It  cannot  be  that  no  one  made  you  blind. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     173 

Cyclops. 
You  jeer  me  ;  where,  I  ask,  is  Nobody? 

Chorus. 
Nowhere,  O  Cyclops ! 

Cyclops. 

It  was  that  stranger  ruined  me ;  the  wretch 
First  gave  me  wine,  and  then  burned  out  my  eye ; 
,For  wine  is  strong,  and  hard  to  struggle  with. 
Have  they  escaped,  or  are  they  still  within  ? 

Chorus. 

They  stand  under  the  darkness  of  the  rock 
And  cling  to  it. 

Cyclops. 
At  my  right  hand,  or  left  ? 

Chorus. 
Close  on  your  right. 

Cyclops. 

Where? 

Chorus. 

Near  the  rock  itself. 
You  have  them. 

Cyclops. 

O,  misfortune  on  misfortune ! 
I've  cracked  my  skull. 
15* 


174     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Chorus. 
Now  they  escape  you  there. 

Cyclops. 
Not  there,  although  you  say  so. 

Cliorus. 

Not  on  that  side. 

Cyclops. 
Where  then  ? 

Chorus. 
They  creep  about  you  on  your  left. 

Cyclops. 
Ah !  I  am  mocked !     They  jeer  me  in  my  ills. 

Chorus. 
Not  there !  he  is  a  little  there  beyond  you. 

Cyclops. 
Detested  wretch !  where  are  you  ? 

Ulysses. 

Far  from  you, 
I  keep  with  care  this  body  of  Ulysses. 

Cyclops. 
What  do  you  say  ?  you  proffer  a  new  name. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      175 

Ulysses. 

My  father  named  me  so,  and  I  have  taken 
A  full  revenge  for  your  unnatural  feast. 
I  should  have  done  ill  to  have  burned  down  Troy, 
And  not  revenged  the  murder  of  my  comrades. 

Cyclops. 

Ai,  ai !  the  ancient  oracle  is  accomplished  ; 
.  It  said  that  I  should  have  my  eyesight  blinded 
By  one  coming  from  Troy ;  yet  it  foretold 
That  you  should  pay  the  penalty  for  this, 
By  wandering  long  over  the  homeless  sea. 

Ulysses. 

I  bid  thee  weep  ;  consider  what  I  say,  — 
I  go  towards  the  shore  to  drive  my  ship 
To  mine  own  land,  o'er  the  Sicilian  wave. 

Cyclops, 

Not  so,  if  whelming  you  with  this  huge  stone 
I  can  crush  you  and  all  your  men  together ; 
I  will  descend  upon  the  shore,  though  blind, 
Groping  my  way  adown  the  steep  ravine. 

Chorus. 

And  we,  the  shipmates  of  Ulysses  now, 
Will  serve  our  Bacchus  all  our  happy  lives. 

SHELLEY. 


176  POETHY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

AEOLUS. 

THEE,  son  of  Jove,  whose  sceptre  was  confessed 
Where  fair  ^Eolia  springs  from  Tethys'  breast ; 
Thence  on  Olympus,  'mid  celestials  placed, 
God  of  the  winds,  and  ^Ether's  boundless  waste, 
Thee  I  invoke !     O,  puff  my  bold  design, 
Prompt  the  bright  thought,  and  swell  the  harmo- 
nious line. 

But  while  I  count  thy  gifts,  be  mine  to  shun 

The  deprecated  prize  Ulysses  won ; 

Who,  sailing  homeward  from  thy  breezy  shore, 

The  prisoned  winds  in  skins  of  parchment  bore. 

Speeds  the  fleet  bark,  till  o'er  the  billowy  green 

The  azure  heights  of  Ithaca  are  seen ; 

But  while,  with  favoring  gales,  her  way  she  wins, 

His  curious  comrades  ope  the  mystic  skins ; 

When    lo !    the    rescued    winds,  with    boisterous 

sweep, 

Roar  to  the  clouds,  and  lash  the  rocking  deep  ; 
Heaves  the  smote  vessel  in  the  howling  blast, 
Splits  the  stretched  sail,  and  cracks  the  tottering 

mast. 

Launched  on  a  plank  the  buoyant  hero  rides 
Where  ebon  Afric  stems  the  sable  tides, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      177 

While  his  ducked  comrades  o'er  the  ocean  fly, 
And  sleep  not  in  the  whole  skins  they  untie. 

REJECTED  ADDRESSES. 
••tttl" 


ULYSSES  AND  HIS  DOG. 

ULYSSES  RECOGNIZED  BY  HIS  DOG  ARGUS. 

Now  to  the  gate  as  near  Ulysses  drew, 
Argus,  the  dog,  his  ancient  master  knew ; 
He,  not  unconscious  of  the  voice  and  tread, 
Lifts  to  the  sound  his  ear,  and  rears  his  head. 
Bred  by  Ulysses,  nourished  at  his  board, 
But  ah !  not  fated  long  to  please  his  lord ; 
To  him  his  swiftness  and  his  strength  were  vain  ; 
The  voice  of  glory  called  him  o'er  the  main. 
Till  then,  in  every  sylvan  chase  renowned, 
With  Argus !  Argus !  rung  the  woods  around ; 
With  him  the  youths  pursued  the  goat  or  fawn, 
Or  traced  the  mazy  leveret  o'er  the  lawn. 
Now  left  to  man's  ingratitude  he  lay, 
Unhoused,  neglected,  on  the  public  way. 

He  knew  his  lord ;  he  knew,  and  strove  to  meet ; 
In  vain  he  strove  to  crawl  and  kiss  his  feet ; 


178     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Yet,  all  he  could,  his  tail,  his  ears,  his  eyes, 
Salute  his  master,  and  confess  his  joys. 
Soft  pity  touched  the  mighty  master's  soul, 
And  down  his  cheek  a  tear  unbidden  stole ; 
Stole  unperceived ;  he  turned  his  head  and  dried 
The  drop  humane ;  then  thus  impassioned  cried. 

"  What  noble  beast  in  this  abandoned  state 
Lies  here,  all  helpless,  at  Ulysses'  gate  ? 
His  bulk  and  beauty  speak  no  vulgar  praise ; 
If  as  he  seems  he  was  in  better  days, 
Some  care  his  age  deserves ;  or  was  he  prized 
For  worthless  beauty,  therefore  now  despised  ? 

"  Not  Argus  so,"  Euma3us  thus  rejoined, 
"  But  served  a  master  of  a  nobler  kind, 
Who  never,  never  shall  behold  him  more, 
Long,  long  since  perished  on  a  distant  shore ! 
Ah,  had  you  seen  him  vigorous,  bold,  and  young, 
Swift  as  a  stag,  and  as  a  lion  strong ! 
Him  no  fell  savage  on  the  plain  withstood ; 
None  'scaped  him,  bosomed  in  the  gloomy  wood. 
His  eye  how  piercing,  and  his  scent  how  true, 
To  wind  the  vapor  in  the  tainted  dew ! 
Such  when  Ulysses  left  his  native  coast  ; 
Now  years  unnerve  him,  and  his  lord  is  lost. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     179 

The  women  keep  the  generous  creature  bare  ; 
A  sleek  and  idle  race  is  all  their  care ; 
The  master  gone,  the  servants  what  restrains  ? 
Or  dwells  humanity  where  riot  reigns  ? 
Heaven  fixed  it  certain  that  whatever  day 
Makes  man  a  slave,  takes  half  his  worth  away." 

This  said,  the  honest  herdsman  strode  before  ; 
The  musing  monarch  lingered  at  the  door ; 
The  dog,  whom  fate  had  granted  to  behold 
His  lord  when  twenty  tedious  years  had  rolled, 
Takes  a  last  look,  and  having  seen  him,  dies. 
So  closed  forever  faithful  Argus'  eyes. 

POPE'S  HOMEE. 

.   -  e  Q*  f  .  - 

"*"•'  C"SS~S  •""•— 

ULYSSES  IMPATIENT  OF  REST. 

IT  little  profits  that  an  idle  king, 

By  this  still  hearth,  among  these  barren  crags, 

Matched  with  an  aged  wife,  I  mete  and  dole 

Unequal  laws  unto  a  savage  race, 

That  hoard,  and  sleep,  and  feed,  and  know  not  me. 

I  cannot  rest  from  travel ;  I  will  drink 

Life  to  the  lees ;  all  times  I  have  enjoyed 

Greatly,  have  suffered  greatly,  both  with  those 


180     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

That  loved  me,  and  alone ;  on  shore,  and  when 
Through  scudding  drifts  the  rainy  Hyades 
Vexed  the  dim  sea ;  I  am  become  a  name ; 
For,  always  roaming  with  a  hungry  heart, 
Much  have  I  seen  and  known  ;  cities  of  men, 
And  manners,  climates,  councils,  governments ; 
Myself  not  least,  but  honored  of  them  all ; 
And  drunk  delight  of  glory  with  my  peers, 
Far  on  the  ringing  plains  of  windy  Troy. 

This  is  my  son,  mine  own  Telemachus, 

To  whom  I  leave  the  sceptre,  and  the  isle ; 

Well  loved  of  me,  discerning  to  fulfil 

This  labor,  by  slow  prudence  to  make  mild 

A  rugged  people,  and  through  soft  degrees 

Subdue  them  to  the  useful  and  the  good. 

Most  blameless  is  he,  centred  in  the  sphere 

Of  common  duties,  decent  not  to  fail 

Li  offices  of  tenderness,  and  pay 

Meet  adoration  to  my  household  gods, 

When  I  am  gone.     He  works  his  work,  I  mine. 

Come,  my  friends, 

'Tis  not  too  late  to  seek  a  newer  world. 
Push  off,  and  sitting  well  in  order  smite 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     181 

The  sounding  furrows ;  for  my  purpose  holds 

To  sail  beyond  the  sunset,  and  the  baths 

Of  all  the  western  stars,  until  I  die. 

It  may  be  that  the  gulfs  will  wash  us  down ; 

It  may  be  we  shall  touch  the  Happy  Isles, 

And  see  the  great  Achilles  whom  we  knew. 

Though  much  is  taken,  much  abides,  and  though 

We  are  not  now  that  strength  which  in  old  days 

Moved  earth  and  heaven,  that  which  we  are,  we  are ; 

One  equal  temper  of  heroic  hearts, 

Made  weak  by  time  and  fate,  but  strong  in  will 

To  strive,  to  seek,  to  find,  and  not  to  yield. 

TENNYSON. 


PENELOPE  —  BBISEIS. 

TWICE  ten  long  years  Penelope  was  wooed, 
Yet  chaste  remained,  by  countless  lovers  sued ; 
With  fictious  woof  her  wedlock  could  delay, 
And  rent  by  night  the  threads  she  wove  by  day ; 
Hopeless  Ulysses  to  behold  again, 
Yet  tarrying  saw  her  youthful  beauties  wane. 
Briseis'  arms  the  dead  Achilles  pressed ; 
With  frantic  hand  she  smote  her  snowy  breast, 
16 


182     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

V 

Mourning  her  bleeding  lord ;  and,  though  a  slave, 
"Washed  his  stained  corse  in  Simois*  shallower  wave ; 
Soiled  her  fair  locks ;  and  in  her  slender  hold 
Culled  from  the  pile  those  bones  of  giant  mould. 

PROPERTIUS,  BY  ELTON. 


ON  FLAXMAN'S  STATUE  OF  PENELOPE. 

THE  suitors  sinned,  but  with  a  fair  excuse, 
Whom  all  this  elegance  might  well  seduce ; 
Nor  can  our  censure  on  the  husband  fall, 
Who  for  a  wife  so  lovely  slew  them  all. 

COWPER. 


AJAX  AND   CAMILLA. 

WHEN  Ajax  strives   some   rock's  vast  weight  to 

throw, 

The  line  too  labors  and  the  words  move  slow. 
Not  so  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 
Flies  o'er  th'  unbending  corn  or  skims  along  the 

main. 

POPE. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


CREUSA. 

So  when  JSneas  through  the  flames  of  Troy 
Bore  his  pale  sire,  and  led  his  lovely  boy, 
With  loitering  step  the  fair  Creusa  staid, 
And  death  involved  her  in  eternal  shade. 

DAEWIN, 


DIDO. 


UNHAPPY,  Dido,  was  thy  fate 
In  first  and  second  married  state  ! 
One  husband  caused  thy  flight  by  dying, 
Thy  death  the  other  caused  by  flying. 


184     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

AENEAS  AND  ANCHISES. 

I  WAS  born  free  as  Caesar ;  so  were  you ; 

We  both  have  fed  as  well ;  and  we  can  both 

Endure  the  winter's  cold  as  well  as  he. 

For  once,  upon  a  raw  and  gusty  day, 

The  troubled  Tiber  chafing  with  his  shores, 

Caesar  said  to  me,  "  Dar'st  thou,  Cassius,  now 

Leap  in  with  me  into  this  angry  flood 

And  swim  to  yonder  point  ?    Upon  the  word, 

Accoutred  as  I  was,  I  plunged  in, 

And  bade  him  follow.     So  indeed  he  did. 

The  torrent  roared,  and  we  did  buffet  it 

With  lusty  sinews,  throwing  it  aside 

And  stemming  it  with  hearts  of  controversy. 

But  ere  we  could  arrive  the  point  proposed, 

Caesar  cried,  "  Help  me,  Cassius,  or  I  sink." 

Then,  as  JSneas,  our  great  ancestor, 

Did  from  the  flames  of  Troy  upon  his  shoulders 

The  old  Anchises  bear,  so  from  the  waves  of  Tiber 

Did  I  the  tired  Caesar ;  and  this  man 

Is  now  become  a  god ;  and  Cassius  is 

A  wretched  creature,  and  must  bend  his  body 

If  Caesar  carelessly  but  nod  on  him. 

SB  AXES  PEAKS. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  185 

THE   SIBYL. 

WORLDLY    WISDOM. 

IF  future  fate  she  plans,  'tis  all  in  leaves, 
Like  Sibyl,  unsubstantial,  fleeting  bliss ; 
At  the  first  blast  it  vanishes  in  air. 

***** 
As  worldly  schemes  resemble  Sibyl's  leaves, 
The  good  man's  days  to  Sibyl's  books  compare, 
The  price  still  rising  as  in  number  less. 

YOUNG. 


ELYSIUM. 

FAIR  wert  thou,  in  the  dreams 
Of  elder  time,  thou  land  of  glorious  flowers, 
And  summer  winds,  and  low-toned  silvery  streams, 
Dim  with  the  shadows  of  thy  laurel  bowers, 

Where,  as  they  passed,  bright  hours 
Left  no  faint  sense  of  parting,  such  as  clings 
To  earthly  love,  and  joy  in  loveliest  things  ! 

Fair  wert  thou,  with  the  light 
Of  thy  blue  hills  and  sleepy  waters,  cast 
From  purple  skies  ne'er  deepening  into  night, 
Yet  soft,  as  if  each  moment  were  their  last 
16* 


186      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Of  glory,  fading  fast 

Along  the  mountains  !  but  thy  golden  day 
Was  not  as  those  that  warn  us  of  decay. 

And  ever,  through  thy  shades, 
A  swell  of  deep  ^Eolian  sound  went  by, 
From  fountain  voices  in  their  secret  glades, 
And  low  reed-whispers,  making  sweet  reply 

To  summer's  breezy  sigh  ! 

And  young  leaves  trembling  to  the  wind's  light  breath, 
"Which  ne'er  had  touched  them  with  a  hue  of  death ! 

MRS.  HEMANS. 


THE  FORTUNATE   ISLES. 

WHATEVER  of  true  life  there  was  in  thee,* 
Leaps  in  our  age's  veins  ; 

***** 
Here,  'mid  the  bleak  waves  of  our  strife  and  care, 

Float  the  green  "  Fortunate  Isles," 
Where  all  thy  hero  spirits  dwell  and  share 
Our  martyrdoms  and  toils. 

The  present  moves  attended 
With  all  of  brave  and  excellent  and  fair 
That  made  the  old  time  splendid. 

LOWELL. 
*  The  Past. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      187 

LIKE  those  Hesperian  gardens  famed  of  old, 
Fortunate  fields  and  groves  and  flowery  vales, 
Thrice  happy  isles. 

MILTON. 
••!*!•• 


THE   HYPERBOREANS. 

SONG   OF  A  HYPERBOREAN. 

I  COME  from  a  land  in  the  sun-bright  deep, 

Where  golden  gardens  glow, 
Where  the  winds  of  the  north,  becalmed  in  sleep, 

Their  conch  shells  never  blow. 

MOORE. 


ARIST^EUS. 

THE  EMPRESS'S  PALACE   OF  ICE. 

LESS  worthy  of  applause,  though  more  admired 
Because  a  novelty,  the  work  of  man, 
Imperial  mistress  of  the  fur-clad  Russ, 
Thy  most  magnificent  and  mighty  freak, 
The  wonder  of  the  north.     No  forest  fell 
When  thou  wouldst  build,  no  quarry  sent  its  stores 
T'  enrich  thy  walls  ;  but  thou  didst  hew  the  floods, 
And  make  thy  marble  of  the  glassy  wave. 


188     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

In  such  a  palace  Aristseus  found 
Cyrene,  when  he  bore  the  plaintive  tale 
Of  his  lost  bees  to  her  maternal  ear. 


SABRINA. 

THE   RIVER   GODDESS  AT  HOME. 

SABRINA  fair ! 

Listen  where  thou  art  sitting 
Under  the  glassy,  cool,  translucent  wave, 

In  twisted  braids  of  lilies  knitting 
The  loose  train  of  thy  amber-dropping  hair ; 
Listen  for  dear  honor's  sake, 
Goddess  of  the  silver  lake ! 
Listen  and  save. 

MILTON. 


PROTEUS. 

[On  account  of  the  versatility  of  his  talent,  Byron  compares 
Voltaire  to  Proteus.] 

HE  was  all  fire  and  fickleness ;  a  child, 
Most  mutable  in  wishes,  but  in  mind 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      189 

A  wit  as  various,  —  gay,  grave,  sage,  or  wild,  — 
Historian,  bard,  philosopher,  combined ; 
He  multiplied-  himself  among  mankind, 
The  Proteus  of  their  talents ;  but  his  own 
Breathed  most  in  ridicule,  —  which,  as  the  wind, 
Blew  where  it  listed,  laying  all  things  prone,  — 
Now  to  overthrow  a  fool,  and  now  to  shake  a  throne. 

BYEON. 


ORPHEUS. 

THE   LOSS   OF   EURYDICE. 

BUT  soon,  too  soon  the  lover  turns  his  eyes  ; 
Again  she  falls,  again  she  dies,  she  dies ! 
How  wilt  thou  now  the  fatal  sisters  move  ? 
No  crime  was  thine,  if  'tis  no  crime  to  love. 
Now  under  hanging  mountains, 
Beside  the  falls  of  fountains, 
Or  where  Hebrus  wanders, 
Rolling  in  meanders, 

All  alone, 

He  makes  his  moan, 
And  calls  her  ghost, 
Forever,  ever,  ever  lost ! 
Now  with  furies  surrounded, 
Despairing,  confounded, 


190     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

He  trembles,  he  glows, 
Amidst  Rhodope's  snows. 
See,  wild  as  the  winds  o'er  the  desert  he  flies ; 
Hark !  Haemus  resounds  with  the  Bacchanals'  cries. 

Ah,  see,  he  dies  ! 

Yet  even  in  death  Eurydice  he  sung, 
Eurydice  still  trembled  on  his  tongue ; 

Eurydice  the  woods 

Eurydice  the  floods 
Eurydice  the  rocks  and  hollow  mountains  rung. 

POPE. 


THE   GRAVE   OF  ORPHEUS. 

THEN  on  his  ear  what  sounds 

Of  harmony  arose ! 

Far  music  and  the  distance-mellowed  song 
From  bowers  of  merriment; 

The  waterfall  remote ; 
The  murmuring  of  the  leafy  groves ; 

The  single  nightingale 

Perched  in  the  rosier  by,  so  richly  toned, 

That  never  from  that  most  melodious  bird, 

Singing  a  love  song  to  his  brooding  mate, 

Did  Thracian  shepherd  by  the  grave 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      191 

Of  Orpheus  hear  a  sweeter  melody, 
Though  there  the  spirit  of  the  sepulchre 
All  his  own  power  infuse,  to  swell 
The  incense  that  he  loves. 

SOUTHEY. 


ORPHEUS   AND  MUS^EUS. 

TIME  is  not  blind,  — yet  he  who  spares 
Pyramid  pointing  to  the  stars, 
Hath  preyed  with  ruthless  appetite 
On  all  that  marked  the  primal  flight 
Of  the  poetic  ecstasy 
Into  the  land  of  mystery. 
No  tongue  is  able  to  rehearse 
One  measure,  Orpheus,  of  thy  verse ! 
Musaeus,  stationed  with  his  lyre, 
Supreme  among  the  Elysian  choir, 
Is  for  the  dwellers  upon  earth 
Mute  as  a  lark  ere  morning's  birth. 

WORDSWORTH. 


192  POETRY   OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

MUSJ5US. 

BUT  O,  sad  virgin,  that  thy  power 
Might  raise  Musgeus  from  his  bower, 
Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing 
Such  notes  as  warbled  to  the  string, 
Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek, 
And  made  hell  grant  what  love  did  seek  ! 

MILTON. 


ORPHEUS. 

JESSICA.  * 

I'M  never  merry  when  I  hear  sweet  music. 

LORENZO. 

The  reason  is,  your  spirits  are  attentive  ; 

For  do  but  note  a  wild  and  wanton  herd, 

Or  race  of  youthful  and  unhand  led  colts, 

Fetching  mad  bounds,  bellowing  and  neighing  loud, 

Which  is  the  hot  condition  of  their  blood  ; 

If  they  perchance  but  hear  a  trumpet  sound, 

Or  any  air  of  music  touch  their  ears, 

You  shall  perceive  them  make  a  mutual  stand, 

Their  savage  eyes  turned  to  a  modest  gaze, 

By  the  sweet  power  of  music.     Therefore  the  poet 

Did  feign  that  Orpheus  drew  trees,  stones,  and  floods  ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      193 

Since  nought  so  stockish,  hard,  and  full  of  rage, 
But  music  for  a  time  doth  change  its  nature." 

SHAKESPEARE. 
•IX!" 


ARION. 

To  comfort  you  with  chance, 
Assure  yourself,  after  our  ship  did  split, 
When  you,  and  that  poor  number  saved  with  you, 
Hung  on  our  driving  boat,  I  saw  your  brother, 
Most  provident  in  peril,  bind  himself 
(Courage  and  hope  both  teaching  him  the  practice) 
To  a  strong  mast,  that  lived  upon  the  sea, 
Where,  like  Arion  on  the  dolphin's  back, 
I  saw  him  hold  acquaintance  with  the  waves, 
So  long  as  I  could  see. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


THE   SAME. 

THEN  was  there  heard  a  most  celestial  sound 
Of  dainty  music  which  did  next  ensue, 
And,  on  the  floating  waters  as  enthroned, 
Arion  with  his  harp  unto  him  drew 
The  ears  and  hearts  of  all  that  goodly  crew ; 
17 


194      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

As  when  of  old  the  dolphin  which  him  bore 
Through  the  JEgean  Seas  from  pirates'  view, 
Stood  still,  by  him  astonished  at  his  lore, 
And  all  the  raging  seas  for  joy  forgot  to  roar. 

SPENSER. 


THE   SAME. 

THE  moon  is  up ;  by  Heaven,  a  lovely  eve ! 
Long  streams  of  light  o'er  dancing  waves  expand ; 
Now  lads  on  shore  may  sigh  and  maids  believe ; 
Such  be  our  fate  when  we  return  to  land  ! 
Meantime  some  rude  Arion's  restless  hand 
Wakes  the  brisk  harmony  that  sailors  love ; 
A  circle  there  of  merry  listeners  stand, 
Or  to  some  well-known  measure  featly  move, 
Thoughtless,  as  if  on  shore  they  still  were  free  to 

rove.  BYKOX. 


AMPHION. 

ON  WIT,  OR  TALENT. 


TELL  me,  O  teU,  what  kind  of  thing  is  wit, 
Thou,  who  master  art  of  it  ? 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     195 

Tis  not  a  tale,  'tis  not  a  jest, 
Admired  with  laughter  at  a  feast  ; 

Nor  florid  talk,  which  can  that  title  gain  ; 

The  proofs  of  wit  forever  must  remain. 

'Tis  not  to  force  some  lifeless  verses  meet, 

With  their  five  gouty  feet. 
All,  every  where,  like  man's,  must  be  the  soul, 
And  reason  the  inferior  powers  control. 

Such  were  the  numbers  which  could  call 

The  stones  into  the  Theban  wall. 
Such  miracles  are  ceased  ;  and  now  we  see 
No  towns  or  houses  raised  by  poetry. 

COWLEY. 


ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND. 

BLEST  be  the  song  that  brightens 

The  blind  man's  gloom,  exalts  the  veteran's  mirth  ; 
Unscorned    the    peasant's  whistling    breath,    that 
lightens 

His  duteous  toil  of  furrowing  the  green  earth. 
For  the  tired  slave,  Song  lifts  the  languid  oar, 

And  bids  it  aptly  fall,  with  chime 
That  beautifies  the  fairest  shore, 

And  mitigates  the  harshest  clime. 


196      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Yon  pilgrims  see,  —  in  lagging  file 
They  move ;  but  soon  th'  appointed  way 
A  choral  Ave  Marie  shall  beguile, 

And  to  their  hope  the  distant  shrine 
Glisten  with  a  livelier  ray. 

Nor  friendless  he,  the  prisoner  of  the  mine, 
Who  from  the  well-spring  of  his  own  clear  breast 

Can  draw,  and  sing  his  griefs  to  rest. 

The  gift  to  King  Amphion, 

That  walled  a  city  with  its  melody, 
Was  for  belief  no  dream ;  thy  skill,  Arion, 

Could  humanize  the  creatures  of  the  sea, 
Where  men  were  monsters.     A  last  grace  he  craves, 

Leave  for  one  chant ;  the  dulcet  sound 
Steals  from  the  deck  o'er  willing  waves, 

And  listening  dolphins  gather  round. 
Self-cast,  as  with  a  desperate  course, 

'Mid  that  strange  audience,  he  bestrides 
A  proud  one,  docile  as  a  managed  horse ; 

And  singing,  while  the  accordant  hand 
Sweeps  his  harp,  the  Master  rides ; 

So  shall  he  touch  at  length  a  friendly  strand, 
And  he,  with  his  preserver,  shine  star-bright, 

In  memory,  through  silent  night. 

WORDSWORTH. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      197 

VERSE  sweetens  toil,  how  rude  soe'er  the  sound ; 

See  at  her  task  the  village  maiden  sings, 
Nor,  as  she  turns  her  busy  wheel  around, 

Revolves  the  sad  vicissitude  of  things.* 


PYTHAGORAS. 

THOU  almost  mak'st  me  waver  in  my  faith, 

To  hold  opinion  with  Pythagoras, 

That  souls  of  animals  infuse  themselves 

Into  the  trunks  of  men ;  thy  currish  spirit 

Governed  a  wolf,  who,  hanged  for  human  slaughter, 

Infused  his  soul  in  thee ;  for  thy  desires 

Are  wolfish,  bloody,  starved,  and  ravenous. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


HARMONY. 

FROM  harmony,  from  heavenly  harmony 

This  everlasting  frame  began ; 
From  harmony  to  harmony 

*  These  lines,  whose  author  is  unknown,  were  pronounced  by 
Dr.  Johnson  the  finest  in  the  language. 

17* 


198     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran, 
The  diapason  closing  full  in  Man. 

DKTDEN. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  THE   SPHERES. 

LOOK,  Jessica,  see  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patens  of  bright  gold ! 
There's  not  the  smallest  orb  that  thou  behold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim ! 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ! 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 

Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


THE  SAME. 

RING  out,  ye  crystal  spheres ! 
Once  bless  our  human  ears ; 

(If  ye  have  power  to  charm  our  senses  so ;) 
And  let  your  silver  chime 
Move  in  melodious  time, 

And  let  the  base  of  Heaven's  deep  organ  blow ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     199 

And  with  your  ninefold  harmony 

Make  up  full  concert  with  th'  angelic  symphony. 

MILTON. 


THE  LYRE  INVENTED  BY  PYTHAGORAS. 

As  great  Pythagoras  of  yore, 
Standing  beside  the  blacksmith's  door, 
And  hearing  the  hammers  as  they  smote 
The  anvils  with  a  different  note, 
Stole  from  the  varying  tones  that  hung 
Vibrant  on  every  iron  tongue, 
The  secret  of  the  sounding  wire, 
And  formed  the  seven-chorded  lyre. 

LONGFELLOTV. 


SYBARIS. 

TO  THE   DANDELION. 

NOT  in  mid  June  the  golden-cuirassed  bee 
Feels  a  more  summer-like,  warm  ravishment 

In  the  white  lily's  breezy  tent, 
(His  conquered  Sybaris,)  than  I  when  first 
From  the  dark  green  thy  yellow  circles  burst. 

LOWELL. 


200  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE  AMAZONS. 

ROUND  their  bright  queen,  Hippolyte  the  fair, 
In  beauty  beaming  from  her  steel-clad  car, 
Move  the  triumphant  Amazonian  train, 
In  bright  array  exulting  o'er  the  plain. 
Proudly  they  march,  and  clash  their  painted  arms ; 
The  forest  echoes  with  their  proud  alarms  ; 
With  female  shouts  they  shake  the  sounding  field, 
And  fierce  they  poise  the  spear,  and  grasp  the 
moony  shield. 


THALESTRIS. 

THE  brave  Thalestris  shook  her  plumy  crest, 
And  bound  in  rigid  mail  her  youthful  breast, 
Poised  her  long  lance  amid  the  fields  of  war, 
And  steered  with  graceful  ease  her  iron  car. 
Beauteous  in  vain ;  for  her  no  lover  wove 
The  bridal  chaplet,  or  the  wreaths  of  love ; 
Dearer  to  her  the  paths  of  fierce  renown, 
The  warrior's  blood-stained  shield,  the  victor's  lau- 
relled crown. 

APOLLONIUS  RHODIUS. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  201 

ON   A  GEM 

REPRESENTING  A  WOMAN  CONTEMPLATING  A  HOUSE- 
HOLD  GOD. 

DOMESTIC  love  !  not  in  proud  palace  halls 
Is  often  seen  thy  beauty  to  abide ; 
Thy  dwelling  is  in  lowly  cottage  walls, 
That  in  the  thickets  of  the  woodbine  hide ; 
With  hum  of  bees  around,  and  from  the  side 
Of  woody  hills  some  little  bubbling  spring 
Shining  along  through  banks  with  harebells  dyed ; 
And  many  a  bird  to  warble  on  the  wing, 
When  Morn  her  saffron  robe  o'er  heaven  and  earth 
doth  fling. 

O  love  of  loves !  to  thy  white  hand  is  given 
Of  earthly  happiness  the  golden  key ! 
Thine  are  the  joyous  hours  of  winter's  even, 
When  the  babes  cling  around  their  father's  knee; 
And  thine  the  voice  that  on  the  midnight  sea 
Melts  the  rude  mariner  with  thoughts  of  home, 
Peopling  the  gloom  with  all  he  longs  to  see. 
Spirit !  I've  built  a  shrine ;  and  thou  hast  come, 
And  on  the  altar  closed,  forever  closed,  thy  plume ! 

CROLY. 


202  POETRY  OF   THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


PELION  AND  OSSA.  OLYMPUS  AND 
PARNASSUS. 

PELION  and  Ossa  flourish  side  by  side, 

Together  in  immortal  books  enrolled  ; 

His  ancient  dower  Olympus  hath  not  sold  ; 
And  that  inspiring  hill,  which  "  did  divide 
Into  two  ample  horns  his  forehead  wide," 

Shines  in  poetic  radiance  as  of  old  ; 

While  not  an  English  mountain  we  behold 
By  the  celestial  Muses  glorified. 

Yet  round  our  sea-girt  shore  they  rise  in  crowds. 
What  was  the  great  Parnassus'  self  to  thee, 

Mount  Skiddaw  ?     In  his  natural  sovereignty 
Our  British  hill  is  nobler  far  ;  he  shrouds 
His  double  front  among  Atlantic  clouds, 

And  pours  forth  streams  more  sweet  than  Castaly. 

WORDSWORTH. 


CROWNED  AND  BURIED. 

ON  THE  RESTORATION  OF  THE  REMAINS  OF  NAPOLEON 
TO  THE  FRENCH  PEOPLE. 

NAPOLEON  !  'twas  a  high  name  lifted  high  ! 
It  met  at  last  God's  thunder  sent  to  clear 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      203 

Our  compassing  and  covering  atmosphere, 
And  open  a  clear  sight,  beyond  the  sky, 

Of  supreme  empire ;  this  of  earth  was  done,  — 
And  kings  crept  out  again  to  feel  the  sun. 

A  deep  gloom  centred  in  the  deep  repose,  — 
The  nations  stood  up  mute  to  count  their  dead, 
And  he  who  owned  the  name  which  vibrated 

Through  silence, — trusting  to  his  noblest  foes, 
When  earth  was  all  too  gray  for  chivalry,  — 
Died  of  their  mercies,  'mid  the  desert  sea. 

England  !  it  was  not  well,  it  was  not  well, 
Nor  tuneful  with  thy  lofty-chanted  part 
Among  the  Oceanides,  —  that  heart 

To  bind  and  bare,  and  vex  with  vulture  fell. 
I  would,  my  noble  England,  men  might  seek 
All  crimson  stains  upon  thy  breast  —  not  cheek. 

And  since  it  was  done,  in  sepulchral  dust 

We  fain  would  pay  back  something  of  our  debt 
To  France,  if  not  to  honor,  and  forget 

How  through  much  fear  we  falsified  the  trust 
Of  a  fallen  foe  and  exile.     We  return 
Orestes  to  Electra  ....  in  his  urn. 

Napoleon !  he  hath  come  again  ;  borne  home 
Upon  the  popular  ebbing  heart,  —  a  sea 


204      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Which  gathers  its  own  wrecks  perpetually, 
Majestically  moaning.     Give  him  room  ! 

Room  for  the  dead  in  Paris !  welcome  solemn, 
And    grave    deep,    'neath    the    cannon-moulded 
column. 

There  weapon  spent  and  warrior  spent  may  rest 
From  roar  of  fields ;  provided  Jupiter 
Dare  trust  Saturnus  to  lie  down  so  near 

His  bolts !     And  this  he  may ;  for  dispossessed 
Of  any  godship  'lies  the  godlike  arm,  — 
The  goat  Jove  sucked  as  likely  to  do  harm. 

I  think  this  nation's  tears,  poured  thus  together, 
Nobler  than  shouts :  I  think  this  funeral 
Grander  than  crownings,  though  a  pope  bless  all ; 

I  think  this  grave   stronger   than  thrones.      But 

whether 

The  crowned  Napoleon,  or  the  buried  clay 
Be  better,  I  discern  not,  —  angels  may. 

MBS.  BKOWNING. 


POETRY   OF   THE  AGE   OF   FABLE.  205 

WINE   OF  CYPRUS. 

IF  old  Bacchus  were  the  speaker 

He  would  tell  you  with  a  sigh, 
Of  the  Cyprus  in  this  beaker, 

I  am  sipping  like  a  fly,  — 
Like  a  fly  or  gnat  on  Ida, 

At  the  hour  of  goblet-pledge, 
By  Queen  Juno  brushed  aside,  a 

Full  white  arm-sweep  from  the  edge. 

Sooth,  the  drinking  should  be  ampler, 

When  the  drink  is  so  divine ; 
And  some  deep-mouthed  Greek  exemplar 

Would  become  your  Cyprian  wine  ! 
Cyclops'  mouth  might  plunge  aright  in, 

While  his  one  eye  over-leered, 
Nor  too  large  were  mouth  of  Titan, 

Drinking  rivers  down  his  beard. 

Pan  might  dip  his  head  so  deep  in, 
That  his  ears  alone  pricked  out ; 

Fauns  around  him,  pressing,  leaping, 
Each  one  pointing  to  his  throat ; 

While  the  Naiads,  like  Bacchantes, 
Wild,  with  urns  thrown  out  to  waste, 
18 


206      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Cry,  "  O  Earth,  that  thou  wouldst  grant  us 
Springs  to  keep  of  such  a  taste ! " 

Go !  let  others  praise  the  Chian ! 

This  is  soft  as  Muses'  string, 
This  is  tawny  as  Rhea's  lion, 

This  is  rapid  as  its  spring ; 
Bright  as  Paphia's  eyes  e'er  met  us, 

Light  as  ever  trod  her  feet, 
And  the  brown  bees  of  Hymettus 

Made  their  honey  not  so  sweet. 

MRS.  BROWNING. 


THE   REGENERATION  OF  GREECE. 

THE  world's  great  age  begins  anew, 

The  golden  years  return, 
The  earth  doth,  like  a  snake,  renew 

Her  winter  weeds  outworn. 
A  brighter  Hellas  rears  its  mountains 

From  waves  serener  far ; 
A  new  Peneus  rolls  its  fountains 

Against  the  morning  star. 
Where  fairer  Tempes  bloom,  there  sleep 
Young  Cyclads,  on  a  sunnier  deep ; 
A  loftier  Argo  cleaves  the  main, 

Fraught  with  a  later  prize ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     207 

Another  Orpheus  sings  again, 

And  loves,  and  weeps,  and  dies. 
A  new  Ulysses  leaves  once  more 
Calypso  for  his  native  shore. 
O,  write  no  more  the  tale  of  Troy, 

If  earth  death's  scroll  must  be  ! 
Nor  mix  with  Laian  rage  the  joy 

Which  dawns  upon  the  free. 
Although  a  subtler  Sphinx  renew 
Riddles  of  death  Thebes  never  knew, 
Another  Athens  shall  arise 

And  to  remoter  time 
Bequeath,  like  sunset  to  the  skies, 

The  splendor  of  its  prime  ; 
And  leave,  if  nought  so  bright  may  live, 
All  earth  can  take,  or  heaven  can  give. 

SHELLEY. 


A   POET'S  WISHES. 

Now  give  me  but  a  cot  that's  good, 
In  some  great  town's  neighborhood  ; 
A  garden  where  the  winds  may  play 
From  the  blue  hills  far  away, 
And  wanton  with  such  trees  as  bear 


208     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Their  loads  of  green  through  all  the  year, 
Laurel  and  dusky  juniper ; 
So  may  some  friends,  whose  social  talk 
I  love,  there  take  their  evening  walk 
And  spend  a  frequent  holiday. 

And  may  I  own  a  quiet  room, 

Where  the  morning  sun  may  come, 

Stored  with  books  of  poesy, 

Tale,  science,  old  morality, 

Fable,  and  divine  history, 

Ranged  in  separate  cases  round, 

Each  with  living  marble  crowned. 

Here  should  Apollo  stand,  and  there 

Isis,  with  her  sweeping  hair  ; 

Here  Phidian  Jove,  or  the  face  of  thought 

Of  Pallas,  or  Laocoon, 

Or  Adrian's  boy  Antinoiis, 

Or  the  winged  Mercurius, 

Or  some  that  fresh  research  hath  brought 

From  the  land  Italian. 

And  one  I'd  have  whose  heaving  breast 
Should  rock  me  nightly  to  my  rest, 
By  holy  chains  bound  fast  to  me, 
Faster  by  Love's  sweet  sorcery. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      209 

I  would  not  have  my  beauty  as 

Juno  or  Paphian  Venus  was, 

Or  Dian,  with  her  crested  moon, 

(Else,  haply,  she  might  change  as  soon,) 

Or  Portia,  that  high  Roman  dame, 

Or  she  who  set  the  world  on  flame, 

Spartan  Helen,  who  did  leave 

Her  husband  king  to  grieve, 

And  fled  with  Priam's  shepherd  boy, 

And  caused  the  mighty  tale  of  Troy. 

She  should  be  a  woman  who, 

(Graceful  without  much  endeavor,) 

Could  praise  or  excuse  all  I  do, 

And  love  me  ever. 

I'd  have  her  thoughts  fair,  and  her  skin 

White  as  the  white  soul  within  ; 

And  her  fringed  eyes  of  darkest  blue, 

Which  the  great  soul  looketh  through, 

Like  heaven's  own  gates  cerulean ; 

And  these  I'd  gaze  and  gaze  upon, 

As  did  of  old  Pygmalion. 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 
18* 


210     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

INSECT  TRANSFORMATIONS. 

WHO  that  beholds  the  summer's  glittering  swarms, 
Ten  thousand,  thousand  gayly-gilded  forms, 
In  volant  dance  of  mixed  rotation  play, 
Bask  in  the  beam,  and  beautify  the  day, 
Would  think  those  airy  wantons,  so  adorn,* 
Were  late  his  fixed  antipathy  and  scorn, 
Prone  to  the  dust,  or  reptile  through  the  mire, 
And  ever  thence  unlikely  to  aspire  ? 

No  fictions  here  to  willing  fraud  invite, 
Led  by  the  marvellous,  absurd  delight ; 
No  Golden  Ass,  no  tale  Arabians  frame, 
Nor  flitting  forms  of  Naso's  magic  strain ; 
Deucalion's  progeny  of  native  stone, 
Or  armies  from  Cadmean  harvests  grown, 
With  many  a  wanton  and  fantastic  dream, 
The  laurel,  mulberry,  and  bashful  stream ; 
Arachne  shrunk  beneath  Tritonia's  rage, 
Tithonus  changed  and  garrulous  with  age. 
Not  such  mutations  deck  the  chaster  song, 
Adorned  with  nature  and  with  truth  made  strong ; 

*  Adorn,  in  the  sense  of  adorned^  is  out  of  use,  but  is  still 
found  in  our  dictionaries. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      211 

No  debt  to  fable  or  to  fancy  due, 

And  only  wondrous  facts  revealed  to  view. 

HENRY  BROOKE. 


SONG. 

SCORN   OF  LOVE   ADMONISHED. 

HEAR,  ye  ladies  that  despise 

What  the  mighty  Love  has  done  ; 
Fear  examples,  and  be  wise : 

Fair  Callisto  was  a  nun  ;  * 
Leda,  sailing  on  the  stream 

To  deceive  the  hopes  of  man, 
Love  accounting  but  a  dream, 

Doted  on  a  silver  swan ; 
Danae,  in  a  brazen  tower, 
Where  no  love  was,  loved  a  shower. 

Hear,  ye  ladies  that  are  coy, 
What  the  mighty  Love  can  do ; 

Fear  the  fierceness  of  the  boy ; 

The  chaste  Moon  he  makes  to  woo  j 

*  That  is,  a  follower  of  Diana. 


212      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Vesta,  kindling  holy  fires, 

Circled  round  about  with  spies, 

Never  dreaming  loose  desires, 
Doting  at  the  altar  dies. 

Ilion  in  a  short  hour  higher 

He  can  build,  and  once  more  fire. 

BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER. 


THE  EGYPTIAN  DEITIES. 

THE  brutish  gods  of  Nile  as  fast, 

Isis,  and  Horus,  and  the  dog  Anubis,  haste. 

Nor  is  Osiris  seen 

In  Memphian  grove  or  green, 
Trampling  the  unshowered  *  grass  with  lowings  loud ; 

Nor  can  he  be  at  rest 

Within  his  sacred  chest ; 
Nought  but  profoundest  hell  can  be  his  shroud. 

In  vain  with  timbreled  anthems  dark 
The  sabled-stoled  sorcerers  bear  his  worshipped  ark. 

*  There  being  no  rain  in  Egypt,  the  grass  is  "  unshowered," 
and  the  country  depends  for  its  fertility  upon  the  overflowings 
of  the  Nile. 


POETRY   OF   THE  AGE   OF   FABLE.  213 


HORUS  OR  HARPOCRATES. 

THYSELF  shall,  under  some  rosy  bower, 
Sit  mute,  with  thy  finger  on  thy  lip ; 

Like  him,  the  boy,  who,  born  among 

The  flowers  that  on  the  Nile  stream  blush, 

Sits  ever  thus,  —  his  only  song 
To  earth  and  heaven,  "  Hush  all,  hush  ! 

MOORE. 


THE  PRIESTESS    OF   APOLLO   DELIVERING 
THE   ORACLE   AT   DELPHI. 

WHILE  duteous  priests  the  gorgeous  shrine  sur- 
round, 

Cinctured  with  ephods  and  with  garlands  crowned, 

Contending  hosts  and  trembling  nations  wait 

The  firm,  immutable  decrees  of  fate. 

Through  the  deep  twilight  of  her  sacred  groves, 

With  frantic  step  the  Pythian  priestess  moves ; 

Full  of  the  god,  her  laboring  bosom  sighs, 

Foam  on  her  lips  and  fury  in  her  eyes. 

Strong  writhe  her  limbs;  her  wild,  dishevelled 
hair 

Starts  from  her  laurel  wreath  and  swims  in  air. 


214      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

She  speaks  in  thunder  from  her  golden  throne, 
With  words  unwilled,  and  wisdom  not  her  own. 

The  oracle  has  spoken !  senseless,  prone, 
Faint  sinks  the  priestess  on  the  altar  stone. 
O'er  her  flushed  cheek  her  snowy  veil  she*"  throws, 
And  shrouds  with  trembling  hands   her  throbbing 

brows. 

Her  bosom  heaves  with  soft,  relieving  sighs, 
And'  woman's  healing  tears  returning  fill  her  eyes. 


ORACLES. 

THE  oracles  are  dumb  ; 
No  voice  or  hideous  hum 

Rings  through  the  arched  roof  in  words  deceiving. 
Apollo  from  his  shrine 
Can  no  more  divine, 

With  hollow  shriek  the  steep  of  Delphos  leaving. 
No  nightly  trance  or  breathed  spell 
Inspires  the  pale-eyed  priest  from  the  prophetic  cell. 

MILTON. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  215 

THE  ORACLE  OF  DODONA. 

O,  WHERE,  Dodona !  is  thine  aged  grove, 
Prophetic  fount,  and  oracle  divine  ? 
What  valley  echoed  the  response  of  Jove  ? 
What  trace  remaineth  of  the  Thunderer's  shrine  ? 
All,  all  forgotten,  —  and  shall  man  repine 
That  his  frail  bonds  to  fleeting  life  are  broke  ? 
Cease,  fool !  the  fate  of  gods  may  well  be  thine ; 
Wouldst  thou  survive  the  marble  or  the  oak, 
When  nations,  tongues,  and  worlds  must  sink  be- 
neath the  stroke. 

BYBON. 


THE   SAME. 

AND  I  will  work  in  prose  and  rhyme, 
And  praise  thee  more  in  both, 

Than  bard  has  honored  beech  or  lime, 
Or  that  Thessalian  growth 

In  which  the  swarthy  ringdove  sat 

And  mystic  sentence  spoke  ;  &c. 

TENNYSOK. 


216  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

ADDRESSED  TO  YARDLEY  OAK. 

O,  COULDST  thou  speak, 
As  in  Dodona  once  thy  kindred  trees 
Oracular,  I  would  not  curious  ask 
The  future,  best  unknown,  but  at  thy  mouth, 
Inquisitive,  the  less  ambiguous  past. 

COWPEB. 


POETS   OF  MYTHOLOGY. 

HOMER. 

SEVEN  wealthy  towns  contend  for  Homer  dead, 
Through  which  the  living  Homer  begged  his  bread. 


ON  MILTON. 

THREE  poets  in  three  different  ages  born, 
Greece,  Italy,  and  England  did  adorn. 
The  first  in  loftiness  of  soul  surpassed, 
The  next  in  majesty,  in  both  the  last. 
The  force  of  nature  could  no  further  go ; 
To  make  a  third  she  joined  the  other  two. 

DRYDEN. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  217 

THE   THREE   GREAT  EPIC  POETS. 

AGES  elapsed  ere  Homer's  lamp  appeared, 
And  ages  ere  the  Mantuan  swan  was  heard. 
To  carry  nature  lengths  unknown  before, 
To  give  a  Milton  birth,  asked  ages  more. 
Thus  Genius  rose  and  set  at  ordered  times, 
And  shot  a  dayspring  into  distant  climes, 
Ennobling  every  region  that  he  chose  ; 
He  sunk  in  Greece,  in  Italy  he  rose, 
And,  tedious  years  of  Gothic  darkness  passed, 
Emerged,  all  splendor,  in  our  isle  at  last. 
Thus  lovely  Halcyons  dive  into  the  main, 
Then  show  far  off  their  shining  plumes  again. 

COWPER. 


OVID. 

AND  now  I  close  my  work,  which  not  the  ire 
Of  Jove,  nor  tooth  of  time,  nor  sword,  nor  fire 
Shall  bring  to  nought.     Come  when  it  will,  that  day 
Which  o'er  the  body,  not  the  mind,  has  sway, 
And  snatch  the  remnant  of  my  life  away, 
My  better  part  above  the  stars  shall  soar, 
And  my  renown  endure  forevermore. 
19 


218     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

"Where'er  the  Roman  arms  and  arts  shall  spread, 
There  by  the  people  shall  my  book  be  read ; 
And,  if  aught  true  in  poet's  visions  be, 
My  name  and  fame  have  immortality. 

OVID. 


OVID,  IN  EXILE  AT  PONTUS,  TO  HIS  WIFE. 

Now  the  swan's  plumes  are  o'er  my  temples  shed, 
And  age  my  sable  hair  has  silvery  spread. 
Unnerved  my  shattered  frame  and  feeble  knees, 
The  sports  that  pleased  in  youth  no  longer  please ; 
If  sudden  seen,  thou  wouldst  not  know  me  now ; 
Such  ruin  stamps  its  pressure  on  my  brow. 
Time,  I  confess,  has  worn  his  traces  here, 
Yet  symbols  of  an  anxious  mind  appear. 
If  by  my  woes  my  years  should  measured  be, 
Sure  Pylian  Nestor  were  but  young  to  me. 
Successive  griefs  liave  worn  my  manhood's  prime, 
And  turned  me  gray  and  old  before  my  time. 
Ease  nourishes  the  body  and  the  mind, 
And  both  have  with  immoderate  labors  pined. 
What  fame  of  old  the  son  of  uEson  bore, 
Who  passed  adventurous  to  this  Pontic  shore ! 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     219 

Yet  with  far  lighter  toil  he  hither  came, 

Or  truth  must  sink  beneath  a  mighty  name. 

He  sought  these  barbarous  climes  by  Pelias  sent, 

Who  scarcely  ruled  Thessalia's  continent ; 

Me  Caesar's  anger  blasts,  whom  earth  obeys 

From  the  sun's  rising  to  his  setting  rays. 

Graecia's  first  worthies  to  his  bark  were  joined, 

But  Ovid  came  deserted  by  mankind ; 

In  solid  galley  Jason  ploughed  the  wave, 

In  a  frail  bark  did  I  the  ocean  brave ; 

No  Tiphys  steered,  no  wise  Agenor's  son 

Pointed  what  course  to  ply,  what  rocks  to  shun : 

Him  royal  Juno  and  Minerva  led ; 

No  deities  there  were  to  shield  my  head. 

OVID,  BY  ELTON. 


THE  POET  IN  THE   CLOUDS. 

O !  IT  is  pleasant,  with  a  heart  at  ease, 
Just  after  sunset,  or  by  moonlight  skies, 

To  make  the  shifting  clouds  be  what  you  please ; 
Or  let  the  easily-persuaded  eyes 

Own  each  quaint  likeness  issuing  from  the  mould 
Of  a  friend's  fancy ;  or  with  head  bent  low, 


220     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And  cheek  aslant,  see  rivers  flow  of  gold 

Twixt  crimson  banks ;  and  then,  a  traveller,  go 
From  mount  to  mount  of  Cloudland,  gorgeous  land  ! 

Or,  listening  to  the  tide,  with  closed  sight, 
Be  that  blind  bard,  who  on  the  Chian  strand, 

By  those  deep  sounds  possessed,  with  inward  light 
Beheld  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey 

Rise  to  the  swelling  of  the  voiceful  sea. 

COLERIDGE. 


THE   SWAN. 

[The  swan  was  the  favorite  bird  of  Apollo;  the  reason  for 
which  is  not  very  apparent.  It  was  perhaps  on  account  of  its 
pure  white  hue  that  it  attained  that  honor.  This  connection 
with  the  god  of  music  gained  those  birds  the  credit  of  musical 
powers  which  they  do  not  possess ;  for  the  swan  has  no  note. 
They  were  said  to  sing  most  sweetly  just  before  their  death. 
Shakespeare  alludes  to  this.] 

LET  music  sound  while  he  doth  make  his  choice, 
Then,  if  he  lose,  he  makes  a  swan-like  end, 
Fading  in  music. 

MERCHANT  OF  VENICE, 

I  AM  the  cygnet  to  this  pale,  faint  swan 
Who  chants  a  doleful  hymn  to  his  own  death. 

KING  JOHN,  v.  7. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.  221 

THE  DYING  SWAN. 

THE  wild  swan's  death  hymn  took  the  soul 

Of  that  waste  place  with  joy 

Hidden  in  sorrow  j  at  first  to  the  ear 

The  warble  was  low,  and  full,  and  clear ; 

And  floating  about  the  under  sky, 

Prevailing  in  weakness,  the  coronach  stole 

Sometimes  afar  and  sometimes  anear ; 

But  anon  her  awful,  jubilant  voice, 

With  a  music  strange  and  manifold, 

Flowed  forth  on  a  carol  free  and  bold ; 

As  when  a  mighty  people  rejoice 

With  shawms,  and  with  cymbals,  and  harps  of  gold ; 

And  the  tumult  of  their  acclaim  is  rolled 

Through  the  open  gates  of  the  city  afar, 

To  the  shepherd  who  watcheth  the  evening  star. 

And  the  creeping  mosses  and  clambering  weeds, 

And  the  willow  branches,  hoar  and  dank, 

And  the  wavy  swell  of  the  soughing  reeds, 

And  the  wave-worn  horns  of  the  echoing  bank, 

And  the  silvery  marish  flowers  that  throng 

The  desolate  creeks  and  pools  among, 

Were  flooded  over  with  eddying  song. 

TENNYSOJT. 

19* 


222  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE  SWAN,  A  CONSTELLATION. 

UPON  that  famous  river's  farther  shore 

There  stood  a  snowy  Swan,  of  heavenly  hue 

And  gentle  kind,  as  ever  fowl  afore ; 
A  fairer  one  in  all  the  goodly  crew 

Of  white  Strymonian  brood  might  no  man  view ; 

There  he  most  sweetly  sang  the  prophecy 

Of  his  own  death  in  doleful  elegy. 

At  last,  when  all  his  mourning  melody 

He  ended  had,  that  both  the  shores  resounded, 

Feeling  the  fit  that  him  forewarned  to  die, 
With  lofty  flight  above  the  earth  he  bounded, 
And  out  of  sight  to  highest  heaven  mounted, 

Where  now  he  is  become  an  heavenly  sign. 

There  now  the  joy  is  his ;  here  sorrow  mine. 

SPENSER. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  THE   SWAN. 

I  HEARD  (alas !  'twas  only  in  a  dream ) 
Strains  which,  as  sage  Antiquity  believed, 
By  waking  ears  have  sometimes  been  received, 

Wafted  adown  the  wind  from  lake  or  stream ; 

A  most  melodious  requiem,  a  supreme 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     223 

And  perfect  harmony  of  notes,  achieved 

By  a  fair  Swan,  on  drowsy  billows  heaved, 
O'er  which  her  pinions  shed  a  silver  gleam. 

For  is  she  not  the  votary  of  Apollo  ? 
And  knows  she  not,  singing  as  he  inspires, 

That  bliss  awaits  her  which  the  ungeniil  hollow 
Of  the  dull  earth  partakes  not,  nor  desires  ? 

Mount,  tuneful  bird,  and  join  the  immortal  choirs ! 
She  soared,  and  I  awoke,  struggling  in  vain  to  follow. 

WORDSWORTH. 


THE  PHCENIX. 

So  when  the  new-born  Phoenix  first  is  seen, 

Her  feathered  subjects  all  adore  their  queen, 

And  while  she  makes  her  progress  through  the  East, 

From  every  grove  her  numerous  train's  increased ; 

Each  poet  of  the  air  her  glory  sings, 

And  round  him  the  pleased  audience  clap  their 


224  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE  ANGEL  DESCENDING. 

DOWN  thither,  prone  in  flight, 
He  speeds,  and  through  the  vast  ethereal  sky 
Sails  between  worlds  and  worlds,  with  steady  wing, 
Now  on  the  polar  winds,  then  with  quick  fan 
Winnows  the  buxom  air ;  till  within  soar 
Of  towering  eagles,  to  all  the  fowls  he  seems 
A  Phoenix,  gazed  by  all ;  as  that  sole  bird, 
When,  to  enshrine  his  relics  in  the  sun's 
Bright  temple,  to  Egyptian  Thebes  he  flies. 

MILTON. 

••!%*•• 


THE   SALAMANDER. 

AN  undevout  astronomer  is  mad ! 
*  «  « 

O,  what  a  genius  must  inform  the  skies ! 

And  is  Lorenzo's  salamander  heart 

Cold  and  untouched  amid  these  sacred  fires  ? 

YOUNG. 

•  •tan** 

THE   COCKATRICE. 

THIS  will  so  fright  them  both  that  they  will  kill 
one  another  by  the  look,  like  cockatrices. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


POETRY   OF  THE  AGE  OF   FABLE.  225 

THE  BASILISK. 

WHAT  though  the  Moor  the  basilisk  hath  slain, 
And  pinned  him  lifeless  to  the  sandy  plain ; 
Up  through  the  spear  the  subtile  venom  flies, 
The  hand  imbibes  it,  and  the  victor  dies. 

LUCAN. 


THE   SAME. 

WHAT  though  Cimmerian  anarchs  dare  blaspheme 

Freedom  and  thee  ?  a  new  Actaeon's  error 

Shall  theirs  have  been,  —  devoured  by  their  own 

hounds ! 

Be  thou  like  the  imperial  basilisk, 
Killing  thy  foe  with  unapparent  wounds ! 

Gaze  on  oppression,  till  at  that  dread  risk, 
Aghast  she  pass  from  the  earth's  disk. 
Fear  not,  but  gaze,  —  for  freemen  mightier  grow, 
And  slaves  more  feeble,  gazing  on  their  foe. 

SHELLEY. 


226      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FAELE. 

THE   PERSIAN  WORSHIP. 

THE  Persian,  —  zealous  to  reject 
Altar  and  image,  and  th'  inclusive  walls 
And  roofs  of  temples  built  by  human  hands,  — 
The  loftiest  heights  ascending,  from  their  tops, 
With  myrtle-wreathed  tiara  on  his  brows, 
Presented  sacrifice  to  moon  and  stars, 
And  to  the  winds  and  mother  elements, 
And  the  whole  circle  of  the  heavens,  for  him 
A  sensitive  existence  and  a  God. 

WORDSWORTH. 


THE   SAME. 

NOT  vainly  did  the  early  Persian  make 
His  altar  the  high  places  and  the  peak 
Of  estrth  o'er-gazing  mountains,  and  thus  take 
A  fit  and  unwalled  temple,  there  to  seek 
The  Spirit,  in  whose  honor  shrines  are  weak, 
Upreared  of  human  hands.     Come  and  compare 
Columns  and  idol-dwellings,  Goth  or  Greek, 
With  Nature's  realms  of  worship,  earth,  and  air, 
Nor  fix  on  fond  abodes  to  circumscribe  thy  prayer. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      227 

THE   FIRE   WORSHIPPERS. 

YES  !  I  am  of  that  impious  race, 

Those  slaves  of  fire,  that  morn  and  even 

Hail  their  Creator's  dwelling-place 
Among  the  living  lights  of  heaven  ; 

Yes  !  I  am  of  that  outcast  crew, 

To  Iran  and  to  vengeance  true, 

Who  curse  the  hour  your  Arabs  came 

To  desecrate  our  shrines  of  flame, 

And  swear  before  God's  burning  eye, 

To  break  our  country's  chains  or  die. 

MOOEB. 


THE   DOUBLE   SUN. 

[The  poet,  comparing  Nature  and  Art,  as  sources  of  the  beau- 
tiful, likens  them  to  the  double  appearance  of  the  sun  distract- 
ing his  Persian  worshipper.] 

THUS  beauty's  palm 

Betwixt  them  wavering  hangs  ;  applauding  love 
Doubts  where  to  choose  ;  and  mortal  man  aspires 
To  tempt  creative  praise.     As  when  a  cloud 
Of  gathering  hail,  with  limpid  crusts  of  ice 
Enclosed,  and  obvious  to  the  beaming  Sun, 


228      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Collects  his  large  effulgence,  straight  the  heavens 
With  equal  flames  present  on  either  hand 
The  radiant  visage  ;  Persia  stands  at  gaze, 
Appalled ;  and  on  the  brink  of  Ganges  doubts 
The  snowy-vested  seer,  in  Mithra's  *  name, 
To  which  the  fragrance  of  the  south  shall  burn, 
To  which  his  warbled  orisons  ascend. 

AKENSIDK. 
••!*!•• 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  MYTHOLOGY. 

IN  that  fair  clime  the  lonely  herdsman,  stretched 
On  the  soft  grass  through  half  a  summer's  day, 
With  music  lulled  his  indolent  repose ; 
And,  in  some  fit  of  weariness,  if  he, 
When  his  own  breath  was  silent,  chanced  to  hear 
A  distant  strain  far  sweeter  than  the  sounds 
Which  his  poor  skill  could  make,  his  fancy  fetched 
Even  from  the  blazing  chariot  of  the  Sun 
A  beardless  youth  who  touched  a  golden  lute, 
And  filled  the  illumined  groves  with  ravishment. 
The  mighty  hunter,  lifting  up  his  eyes 
Toward  the  crescent  Moon,  with  grateful  heart 
Called  on  the  lovely  wanderer  who  bestowed 

*  Mithra,  the  god  of  the  sun.  among  the  Persians. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      229 

That  timely  light  to  share  his  joyous  sport ; 

And  hence  a  beaming  goddess  with  her  nymphs 

Across  the  lawn  and  through  the  darksome  grove 

(Not  unaccompanied  with  tuneful  notes 

By  echo  multiplied  from  rock  or  cave) 

Swept  in  the  storm  of  chase,  as  moon  and  stars 

Glance  rapidly  along  the  clouded  heaven 

When  winds  are  blowing  strong.      The  traveller 

slaked 

His  thirst  from  rill  or  gushing  fount,  and  thanked 
The  Naiad.     Sunbeams  upon  distant  hills, 
Gliding  apace  with  shadows  in  their  train, 
Might,  with  small  help  from  fancy,  be  transformed 
Into  fleet  Oreads  sporting  visibly. 
The  Zephyrs,  fanning,  as  they  passed,  their  wings, 
Lacked  not  for  love  fair  objects  whom  they  wooed 
With  gentle  whisper.     Withered  boughs  grotesque, 
Stripped  of  their  leaves  and  twigs  by  hoary  age, 
From  depth  of  shaggy  covert  peeping  forth 
In  the  low  vale,  or  on  steep  mountain  side, 
And  sometimes  intermixed  with  stirring  horns 
Of  the  live  deer,  or  goat's  depending  beard,  — 
These  were  the  lurking  Satyrs,  a  wild  brood 
Of  gamesome  deities ;  or  Pan  himself, 
The  simple  shepherd's  awe-inspiring  god. 

WORDSWORTH. 

20 


230  POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE   ORIGIN  OF  FABLE. 

WHAT  has  made  the  sage  or  poet  write 
But  the  fair  paradise  of  Nature's  light  ?  • 
In  the  calm  grandeur  of  a  sober  line, 
We  see  the  waving  of  the  mountain  pine ; 
And  when  a  tale  is  beautifully  staid, 
We  feel  the  safety  of  a  hawthorn  glade. 
When  it  is  moving  on  luxurious  wings, 
The  soul  is  lost  in  pleasant  smotherings ; 
Fair  dewy  roses  brush  against  our  faces, 
And  flowering  laurels  spring  from  diamond  vases. 
Overhead  we  see  the  jasmine  and  sweetbrier, 
And  bloomy  grapes,  laughing  from  green  attire ; 
While  at  our  feet  the  voice  of  crystal  bubbles 
Charms  us  at  once  away  from  all  our  troubles  ; 
So  that  we  feel  uplifted  from  the  world, 
Walking  upon  the  white  clouds,  wreathed  and  curled. 
So  felt  he  who  first  told  how  Psyche  went 
On  the  smooth  wind  to  realms  of  wonderment ; 
What  Psyche  felt,  and  Love,  when  their  full  lips 
First  touched ;  what  amorous  and  fondling  nips 
They  gave  each  other's  cheeks  ;  with  all  their  sighs, 
And  how  they  kissed  each  other's  tremulous  eyes ; 
The  silver  lamp,  —  the  ravishment,  —  the  wonder, 
The  darkness,  —  loneliness,  — the  fearful  thunder ; 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     231 

Their  woes  gone  by,  and  both  to  heaven  upflown, 
To  bow  for  gratitude  before  Jove's  throne. 

So  did  he  feel  who  pulled  the  boughs  aside^ 
That  we  might  look  into  a  forest  wide, 
Telling  us  how  fair  trembling  Syrinx  fled 
Arcadian  Pan,  with  such  a  fearful  dread. 
Poor  nymph  —  poor  Pan  —  how  he  did  weep  to  find 
Nought  but  a  lovely  sighing  of  the  wind 
Along  the  reedy  stream ;  a  half-heard  strain, 
Full  of  sweet  desolation,  balmy  pain. 

What  first  inspired  a  bard  of  old  to  sing 

Narcissus  pining  o'er  th'  untainted  spring  ? 

In  some  delicious  ramble,  he  had  found 

A  little  space,  with  boughs  all  woven  round, 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  a  clearer  pool 

Than  e'er  reflected,  in  its  pleasant  cool, 

The  blue  sky,  here  and  there  serenely  peeping 

Through  tendril  wreaths  fantastically  creeping. 

And  on  the  bank  a  lonely  flower  he  spied, 

A  meek  and  forlorn  flower,  with  nought  of  pride, 

Drooping  its  beauty  o'er  the  watery  clearness, 

To  woo  its  own  sad  image  into  nearness. 

Deaf  to  light  Zephyrus,  it  would  not  move, 

But  still  would  seem  to  droop,  to  pine,  to  love ; 


232     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

So  while  the  poet  stood  in  this  sweet  spot, 
Some  fainter  gleamings  o'er  his  fancy  shot ; 
Nor  was  it  long  ere  he  had  told  the  tale 
Of  youi%  Narcissus,  and  sad  Echo's  hale. 

Where  had  he  been  from  whose  warm  head  outflew 

That  sweetest  of  all  songs,  that  ever-new, 

That  aye-refreshing,  pure  deliciousness, 

Coming  ever  to  bless 

The  wanderer  by  moonlight,  to  him  bringing 

Shapes  from  the  invisible  world,  unearthly  singing 

From  out  the  middle  air,  from  flowery  nests, 

And  from  the  pillowy  silkiness  that  rests 

Full  in  the  speculation  of  the  stars  ? 

Ah !  surely  he  had  burst  our  mortal  bars ; 

Into  some  wondrous  region  he  had  gone 

To  search  for  thee,  divine  Endymion ! 

He  was  a  poet,  sure  a  lover  too, 

Who  stood  on  Latmos'  top,  what  time  there  blew 

Soft  breezes  from  the  myrtle  vale  below ; 

And  brought,  in  faintness  solemn,  sweet  and  slow, 

A  hymn  from  Dian's  temple ;  while,  upswelling, 

The  incense  went  to  her  own  starry  dwelling. 

But,  though  her  face  was  clear  as  infant's  eyes, 

Though  she  stood  smiling  o'er  the  sacrifice, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     233 

The  poet  wept  at  her  so  piteous  fate, 
Wept  that  such  beauty  should  be  desolate  \ 
So,  in  fine  wrath,  some  golden  sounds  he  won, 
And  gave  meek  Cynthia  her  Endymion. 

KEATS. 


THE  TENTH  AVATAR. 

[It  is  recorded  in  the  Hindoo  mythology  that  the  deity  Brania 
has  descended  nine  times  upon  the  world,  in  various  forms,  and 
that  he  is  yet  to  appear  a  tenth  time,  in  the  figure  of  a  warrior, 
upon  a  white  horse,  to  cut  off  all  incorrigible  offenders.  Cain- 
deo  is  the  god  of  Love,  in  the  mythology  of  the  Hindoos,  and 
Ganesa  and  Seriswattee  correspond  to  the  pagan  deities  Janus 
and  Minerva.] 

NINE  times  have  Brama's  wheels  of  lightning  hurled 
His  awful  presence  o'er  th'  alarmed  world  j 
Nine  times  hath  Guilt,  through  all  his  giant  frame, 
Convulsive  trembled  as  the  Mighty  came  ; 
Nine  times  hath  suffering  Mercy  spared  in  vain,  — 
But  heaven  shall  burst  her  starry  gates  again ! 
He  comes  !  dread  Brama  shakes  the  sunless  sky 
With  murmuring  wrath,  and  thunders  from  on  high ! 
Wide  waves  his  flickering  sword,  his  bright  arms 

glow 

Like  summer  suns,  and  light  the  world  below. 
20* 


234     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Earth  and  her  trembling  isles  in  Ocean's  bed 
Are  shook,  and  Nature  rocks  beneath  his  tread. 
To  pour  redress  on  India's  injured  realm, 
Th'  oppressor  to  dethrone,  the  proud  to  whelm, 
To  chase  destruction  from  her  plundered  shore, 
With  arts  and  arms  that  triumphed  once  before, 
The  tenth  Avatar  comes !  at  Heaven's  command 
Shall  Seriswattee  wave  her  hallowed  wand, 
And  Camdeo  bright  and  Ganesa  sublime 
Shall  bless  with  joy  their  own  propitious  clime! 
Come,  Heavenly  Powers  !  primeval  peace  restore ! 
Love, — Mercy,  —  Wisdom,  —  rule  forevermore ! 


THE   MOON,   A  TABLET. 

SWEET  Moon !  if,  like  Crotona's  sage, 

By  any  spell  my  hand  could  dare 
To  make  thy  disk  its  ample  page, 

And  write  my  thoughts,  my  wishes  there, 
How  many  a  friend,  whose  careless  eye 
Now  wanders  o'er  that  starry  sky, 
Should  smile  upon  thy  orb  to  meet 
The  recollection  kind  and  sweet, 
And  all  my  heart  and  soul  would  send 
To  many  a  dear-loved,  distant  friend ! 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 


235 


THE  RECOVERY  OF  THOR'S   HAMMER. 

WROTH  waxed  Thor,  when  his  sleep  was  flown, 
And  he  found  his  trusty  hammer  gone ; 
He  smote  his  brow,  his  beard  he  shook, 
The  son  of  earth  'gan  round  him  look ; 
And  this  the  first  word  that  he  spoke  : 
"  Now  listen  what  I  tell  thee,  Loke  ; 
Which  neither  on  earth  below  is  known, 
Nor  in  heaven  above  :  my  hammer's  gone." 


236     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Their  way  to  Freyia's  bower  they  took, 
And  this  the  first  word  that  he  spoke  : 
"  Thou,  Freyia,  must  lend  a  winged  robe, 
To  seek  my  hammer  round  the  globe." 

Freyia. 

"  That  shouldst  thou  have  though  'twere  of  gold, 
And  that,  though  'twere  of  silver,  hold." 

Away  flew  Loke  ;  the  winged  robe  sounds, 

And  soon  he  has  reached  the  Jotunheim  bounds. 

High  on  a  mound  in  haughty  state 

Thrym,  the  king  of  the  Thursi,  sat ; 

For  his  dogs  he  was  twisting  collars  of  gold, 

And  trimming  the  manes  of  his  coursers  bold. 

Thrym. 

"  How  fare  the  Asi  ?  the  Alfi  *  how  ? 
Why  roam'st  thou  alone  to  Jotunheim  now  ?  " 

Loke. 

"  111  fare  the  Asi,  the  Alfi  mourn ; 
Thor's  hammer  from  him  thou  hast  torn." 

Thrym. 

•'  I  have  the  Thunderer's  hammer  bound 
Fathoms  eight  beneath  the  ground ; 

*  Asi  and  Alfi,  gods  of  different  dignities. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      237 

With  it  shall  no  one  homeward  tread, 
Till  he  bring  me  Freyia  to  share  my  bed." 

Away  flew  Loke ;  the  winged  robe  sounds, 
And  soon  he  has  reached  the  Asgard  bounds. 
At  Midgard  Thor  met  crafty  Loke, 
And  this  the  first  word  that  he  spoke : 
"  Have  you  your  errand  and  labor  done  ? 
Tell  from  aloft  the  course  you  run." 

Loke. 

"  My  labor  is  past,  mine  errand  I  bring ; 
Thrym  has  thy  hammer,  the  giant  king  $ 
With  it  shall  no  one  homeward  tread, 
Till  he  bear  him  Freyia  to  share  his  bed." 

Their  way  to  lovely  Freyia  they  took, 
And  this  the  first  word  that  he  spoke  : 
"  Now,  Freyia,  busk  as  a  blooming  bride ; 
Together  we  must  to  Jotunheim  ride." 
Wroth  waxed  Freyia  with  ireful  look  ; 
All  Asgard's  hall  with  wonder  shook  ; 
Her  great  bright  necklace  started  wide  : 
"  Well  may  ye  call  me  a  wanton  bride, 
If  I  with  thee  to  Jotunheim  ride." 


238     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

The  Asi  did  all  to  council  crowd, 

The  Asinise  *  all  talked  fast  and  loud ; 

This  they  debated,  and  this  they  sought, 

How  the  hammer  of  Thor  should  home  be  brought. 

Up  then  and  spoke  Heimdallar  free, 

Like  the  Vani  wise  was  he : 

"  Now  busk  we  Thor  as  a  bride  so  fair ; 

Let  him  that  great  bright  necklace  wear ; 

Round  him  let  ring  the  spousal  keys, 

And  a  maiden  kirtle  hang  to  his  knees, 

And  on  his  bosom  jewels  rare  ; 

And  high  and  quaintly  braid  his  hair." 

Wroth  waxed  Thor  with  godlike  pride : 

"  Well  may  the  Asi  me  deride, 

If  I  let  me  be  dight  as  a  blooming  bride." 

Then  up  spoke  Loke,  Laufeyia's  son  : 

"  Now  hush  thee,  Thor  ;  this  must  be  done ; 

The  giants  will  straight  in  Asgard  reign 

If  thou  thy  hammer  dost  not  regain." 

Then  busked  they  Thor  as  a  bride  so  fair, 

And  the  great  bright  necklace  gave  him  to  wear ; 

Round  him  let  ring  the  spousal  keys, 

And  a  maiden  kirtle  hang  to  his  knees, 

*  Goddesses. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      239 

And  on  his  bosom  jewels  rare ; 

And  high  and  quaintly  braided  his  hair. 

Up  then  arose  the  crafty  Loke, 

Laufeyia's  son,  and  thus  he  spoke : 

"  A  "servant  I  thy  steps  will  tend  ; 

Together  we  must  to  Jotunheim  wend." 

Now  home  the  goats  together  hie  ; 

Yoked  to  the  axle  they  swiftly  fly. 

The  mountains  shook,  the  earth  burned  red, 

As  Odin's  son  to  Jotunheim  sped. 

Then  Thrym,  the  king  of  the  Thursi,  said, 

'*  Giants,  stand  up  ;  let  the  seats  be  spread  ; 

They  bring  Freyia,  Niorder's  daughter,  down 

To  share  my  bed,  from  Noatun." 

With  horns  all  gilt,  each  coal-black  beast 

Is  led  to  deck  the  giants'  feast. 

Betimes  at  evening  they  approached, 

And  the  mantling  ale  the  giants  broached. 

The  new-come  maiden  ate  alone 

Eight  salmons,  and  an  ox  full  grown, 

And  all  the  cates  on  which  women  feed, 

And  drank  three  firkins  of  sparkling  mead. 

Then  Thrym,  the  king  of  the  Thursi,  said, 

"  Where  have  ye  beheld  such  a  hungry  maid  ? 

Ne'er  saw  I  a  bride  so  keenly  feed, 

Nor  drink  so  deep  of  the  sparkling  mead." 


240      POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Then  forward  leaned  the  crafty  Loke, 

And  thus  the  giant  he  bespoke  : 

"  Nought  has  she  eaten  for  eight  long  nights ; 

So  did  she  long  for  the  nuptial  rites." 

He  stooped  beneath  her  veil  to  kiss, 

But  he  started  the  length  of  the  hall,  I  wis : 

"  Why  are  the  looks  of  Freyia  so  dire  ? 

It  seems  as  her  eyeballs  glistened  with  fire." 

Then  forward  leaned  the  crafty  Loke, 

And  thus  the  giant  he  bespoke  : 

"  Nought  has  she  slept  for  eight  long  nights  j 

So  did  she  long  for  the  nuptial  rites." 

Then  in  the  giant's  sister  came, 

Who  dared  a  bridal  gift  to  claim  : 

"  Those  rings  of  gold  from  thee  I  crave, 

If  thou  wilt  all  my  fondness  have, 

All  my  love  and  fondness  have." 

Then  Thrym,  the  king  of  the  Thursi,  said, 

"  Bear  in  the  hammer  to  plight  the  maid ; 

Upon  her  lap  the  bruiser  lay, 

And  firmly  plight  our  hands  and  fay." 

The  Thunderer's  soul  smiled  in  his  breast, 

When  the  hammer  hard  on  his  lap  was  placed. 

Thrym  first,  the  king  of  the  Thursi,  he  slew, 

And  slaughtered  all  the  giant  crew. 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     241 

He  slew  that  giant's  sister  old, 
Who  prayed  for  bridal  gifts  so  bold ; 
Instead  of  money  and  rings,  I  wot, 
The  hammer's  bruises  were  her  lot. 
Thus  Odin's  son  his  hammer  got. 

HEEBEBT. 


THE  DEATH  OF  BALDUR. 

I  HEARD  a  voice  that  cried, 
"Baldur  the  Beautiful 
Is  dead,  is  dead ! " 
And  through  the  misty  air 
Passed  like  the  mournful  cry 
Of  sunward  sailing  cranes. 

I  saw  the  pallid  corpse 

Of  the  dead  sun 

Borne  through  the  northern  sky» 

Blasts  from  NifFelheim 

Lifted  the  sheeted  mists 

Around  him  as  he  passed. 

And  the  voice  forever  cried, 
"  Baldur  the  Beautiful 
Is  dead,  is  dead ! " 
21 


242     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And  died  away, 

Through  the  dreamy  night, 

In  accents  of  despair. 

Baldur  the  Beautiful, 
God  of  the  summer  sun, 
Fairest  of  all  the  gods ! 
Light  from  his  forehead  beamed, 
Runes  were  upon  his  tongue, 
As  on  the  warrior's  sword. 

All  things  in  earth  and  air 
Bound  were  by  magic  spell 
Never  to  do  him  harm  ; 
Even  the  plants  and  stones ; 
All  save  the  mistletoe, 
The  sacred  mistletoe ! 

Hoeder,  the  blind  old  god, 
Whose  feet  are  shod  with  silence, 
Pierced  through  that  gentle  breast 
With  his  sharp  spear,  by  fraud 
Made  of  the  mistletoe, 
Th'  accursed  mistletoe ! 

They  laid  him  in  his  ship, 
With  horse  and  harness, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     243 

As  on  a  funeral  pyre. 
Odin  placed 
A  ring  upon  his  finger, 
And  whispered  in  his  ear. 

They  launched  the  burning  ship ! 

It  floated  far  away 

Over  the  misty  sea, 

Till  like  the  sun  it  seemed, 

Sinking  beneath  the  waves. 

Baldur  returned  no  more ! 

LONGFELLOTT. 


THE  VALKYEIOR,  OR  CHOOSERS  OF  THE 
SLAIN. 

WEAVE  the  crimson  web  of  war ; 

Let  us  go,  and  let  us  fly 
Where  our  friends  the  conflict  share, 

Where  they  triumph,  where  they  die. 

We  the  reins  to  slaughter  give, 
Ours  to  kill,  and  ours  to  spare. 

GRAY. 


244     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

THE  RUNIC  RHYME. 

UPKOSE  the  king  of  men  with  speed, 
And  saddled  straight  his  coal-black  steed ; 
Down  the  yawning  steep  he  rode, 
That  leads  to  Hela's  dread  abode, 
Till  full  before  his  fearless  eyes 
The  portals  nine  of  hell  arise. 

Facing  to  the  northern  clime, 
Thrice  he  traced  the  Kunic  rhyme, 
Thrice  pronounced,  in  accents  dread, 
The  thrilling  verse  that  wakes  the  dead, 
Till  from  out  the  hollow  ground 
Slowly  breathed  a  sullen  sound. 

GRAY. 

••!%*•• 


THE  AURORA  BOREALIS. 

TlS  midnight,  but  a  rich  unnatural  dawn 

Sheets  the  fixed  arctic  heaven  ;  forth  springs  an  arch 

O'erspanning  with  a  crystal  pathway  pure 

The  starry  sky,  as  though  for  gods  to  march, 

With  show  of  heavenly  warfare  daunting  earth, 

To  that  wild  revel  of  the  northern  clouds, 

That  now  with  broad  and  bannery  light  distinct, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     245 

Stream  in  their  restless  wavings  to  and  fro, 
While  the  sea-billows  gleam  them  mellower  back ; 
Anon  like  slender  lances  bright  upstart, 
And  clash  and  cross  with  hurtle  and  with  flash, 
Tilting  their  airy  tournament. 

MlLMAN. 


THE   DRUIDS. 

To  a  hope 

Not  less  ambitious  once,  among  the  wilds 
Of  Sarum's  plain,  my  youthful  spirit  was  raised. 
There,  as  I  ranged  at  will  the  pastoral  downs, 
Time  with  his  retinue  of  ages  fled 
Backwards,  nor  checked  his  flight  until  I  saw 
Our  dim  ancestral  Past  in  vision  clear ; 
Saw  multitudes  of  men,  and,  here  and  there, 
A  single  Briton  clothed  in  wolf-skin  vest, 
With  shield  and  stone-axe,  stride  across  the  wold. 
I  called  on  Darkness,  —  but  before  the  word 
Was  uttered,  midnight  darkness  seemed  to  take 
All  objects  from  my  sight ;  and  lo,  again 
The  Desert  visible  by  dismal  flames ! 
It  is  the  sacrificial  altar,  fed 

With  living  men,  —  how  deep  the  groans !  the  voice 
21* 


246     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Of  those  that  crowd  the  giant  wicker  thrills 

The  monumental  hillocks,  and  the  pomp 

Is  for  both  worlds,  the  living  and  the  dead. 

At  other  moments,  (for  through  that  wide  waste 

Three  summer  days  I  roamed,)  where'er  the  plain 

Was  figured  o'er  with  circles,  lines,  or  mounds, 

That  yet  survive,  —  a  work,  as  some  divine, 

Shaped  by  the  Druids, — so  to  represent 

Their  knowledge  of  the  heavens,  and  image  forth 

The  constellations,  —  gently  was  I  charmed 

Into  a  waking  dream,  a  reverie 

That  with  believing  eyes,  where'er  I  turned, 

Beheld  long-bearded  teachers,  with  white  hands 

Uplifted,  pointing  to  the  starry  sky, 

Alternately,  and  plain  below,  while  breath 

Of  music  swayed  their  motions,  and  the  waste 

Rejoiced  with  them  and  me  in  those  sweet  sounds. 

WORDSWOETH. 


THE   CULDEES. 


THE  pure  Culdees 

Were  Albyn's  earliest  priests  of  God, 
Ere  yet  an  island  of  her  seas 
By  foot  of  Saxon  monk  was  trod, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.     247 

Long  ere  her  churchmen  by  bigotry 
Were  barred  from  holy  wedlock's  tie. 
'Twas  then  that  Aodh,  famed  afar, 

In  lona  preached  the  word  with  power, 
And  Reullura,  beauty's  star, 

Was  the  partner  of  his  bower. 


THE  MEETING  OF  THE  BARDS. 

WHERE  met  our  Bards  of  old  ?  the  glorious  throng, 
They  of  the  mountain  and  the  battle  song  ? 
They  met,  —  O,  not  in  kingly  hall  or  bower, 
But  where  wild  Nature  girt  herself  with  power ; 
They  met  where  streams  flashed  bright  from  rocky 

caves, 
They  met  where  woods  made  moan  o'er  warriors' 

graves, 

And  where  the  torrent's  rainbow  spray  was  cast, 
And  where  dark  lakes  were  heaving  to  the  blast, 
Amidst  th'  eternal  cliffs,  whose  strength  defied 
The  crested  Roman  in  his  hour  of  pride ; 
And  where  the  Carnedd,*  on  its  lonely  hill, 
Bore  silent  record  of  the  mighty  still ; 

*  Carnedd,  a  barrow  or  cairn. 


248     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

And  where  the  Druid's  ancient  Cromlech  frowned, 
And  the  oaks  breathed  mysterious  murmurs  round,  — 
There  thronged  the  inspired  of  yore !  on  plain  or 

height, 

In  the  sun's  face,  beneath  the  eye  of  light, 
And  baring  unto  heaven  each  noble  head, 
Stood  in  the  circle  where  none  else  might  tread. 

MRS.  HEMANS. 


THE  BELTANE  FIRES. 

LIGHT  the  hills !  till  heaven  is  glowing 

As  with  some  red  meteor's  rays ! 
Winds  of  night,  though  rudely  blowing, 

Shall  but  fan  the  beacon  blaze. 
Light  the  hills !  till  flames  are  streaming 

From  old  Snowdon's  sovereign  steep, 
To  the  waves  round  Mona  gleaming, 

Where  the  Eoman  tracked  the  deep. 

Thus  our  sires,  the  fearless  hearted, 

Many  a  solemn  vigil  kept, 
When,  in  ages  long  departed, 

O'er  the  noble  dead  they  wept. 
In  the  winds  we  hear  their  voices  : 

"  Sons !  though  yours  a  brighter  lot, 


POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE.      249 

When  the  mountain  land  rejoices 
Be  her  mighty  unforgot." 

MBS.  HEMANS. 


ST.  SENANUS   AND  THE   LADY. 

O,  HASTE  and  leave  this  sacred  isle, 
Unholy  bark,  ere  morning  smile  ; 
For  on  thy  deck,  though  dark  it  be, 

A  female  form  I  see  ; 
And  I  have  sworn  this  sainted  sod 
Shall  ne'er  by  woman's  foot  be  trod. 

MOORE. 


IONA. 

NATURE  herself,  it  seemed,  would  raise 
A  minster  to  her  Maker's  praise  ! 
Not  for  a  meaner  use  ascend 
Her  columns,  or  her  arches  bend  ; 
Nor  of  a  theme  less  solemn  tells 
That  mighty  surge  that  ebbs  and  swells, 
And  still,  between  each  awful  pause, 
From  the  high  vault  an  answer  draws, 


250     POETRY  OF  THE  AGE  OF  FABLE. 

Li  varied  tone,  prolonged  and  high, 

That  mocks  the  organ's  melody ; 

Nor  doth  its  entrance  front  in  vain 

To  old  lona's  holy  fane, 

That  Nature's  voice  might  seem  to  say, 

"  Well  hast  thou  done,  frail  child  of  clay  ! 

Thy  humble  powers  that  stately  shrine 

Tasked  high  and  hard  —  but  witness  mine ! " 

SCOTT. 
••ISSH- 

FANCY. 

THE  more  I've  viewed  this  world,  the  more  I've  found 

That,  filled  as  'tis  with  scenes  and  creatures  rare, 
Fancy  commands,  within  her  own  bright  round, 

A  world  of  scenes  and  creatures  far  more  fair. 
Nor  is  it  that  her  power  can  call  up  there 

A  single  charm  that's  not  from  nature  won,  — 
No  more  than  rainbows,  in  their  pride,  can  wear 

A  single  tint  unborrowed  from  the  sun ; 
But  'tis  the  mental  medium  it  shines  through 
That  lends  to  beauty  all  its  charms  and  hue ; 
As  the  same  light,  that  o'er  the  level  lake 

One  dull  monotony  of  lustre  flings, 
Will,  entering  in  the  rounded  raindrop,  make 

Colors  as  gay  as  those  on  angels'  wings. 

MOORE. 


LIST   OF  AUTHORS. 


AKENSIDE. 

APOLLONIUS  RHODIUS. 

ARMSTRONG. 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 

BEATTIE. 

BEAUMONT  &  FLETCHER. 

BLACKLOCK. 

BROOKE,  HENRY. 

BROWNING,  MRS. 

BRYANT. 

BULFINCH,  S.  G. 

BYRON. 

CALLIMACHUS. 

CAMOENS. 

CAMPBELL. 

CATULLUS. 

COLERIDGE. 

COWLEY. 

COWPER. 

CROLY. 

DARWIN. 

DRYDEN. 

DYER. 

ELTON. 

FLETCHER. 

FROTHINGHAM. 

GARCILASO  DE  LA  VEGA. 

GARRICK. 

GRAY. 

HARVEY,  T.  K. 

HEMANS,  MRS. 

HERBERT. 

HEYWOOD. 

HOMER. 

HOOD. 


HUNT,  LEIGH. 

JONSON,  BEN. 

KEATS. 

KEBLE. 

LANDON,  L.  E. 

LANDOR. 

LONGFELLOW. 

LOWELL. 

LOPE  DE  VEGA. 

LUCAN. 

MACAULAY. 

MACHIAVELLI. 

MICKLE. 

MlLMAN. 

MILTON. 

MOORE. 

OVID. 

POPE. 

PRIOR. 

PROPERTIUS. 

REJECTED  ADDRESSES. 

ROWE. 

SCHILLER. 

SCOTT. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

SHELLEY. 

SOUTHEY. 

SPENSER. 

SWIFT. 

TENNYSON. 

THOMSON. 

VIRGIL. 

WALLER. 

WORDSWORTH. 

YOUNG. 


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AN  ^INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

B~"          F°RFA1 


W.LL   -NCR  EE 
DAY     AND     TO     $1   00 
OVERDUE. 


1947 


PENALTY 
F°URTH 
™E    SEVENTH     DAY 


YA 


1 1 


